


I Hate You (Larry Stylinson)

by larry_love23



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anorexia, Anorexia Recovery, Borderline Personality, Bottom Harry, Bullying, Daddy Harry, Dark, Dark Harry, Darkness, I HATE YOU, LGBT, Love Triangle, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Model Zayn, Recovery, Self Harm, Toxic Relationships, Trauma, Twisted Romance, angsty, kiwi, larry stylinson - Freeform, love hate, love hate relationship, one direction - Freeform, self hatred
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-06-30 16:53:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 48
Words: 114,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15755877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/larry_love23/pseuds/larry_love23
Summary: Good looks  mean nothing if you're an asshole. When Louis, a struggling writer, meets Harry, a world-renowned poet, he learns exactly that. Harry's hurtful words and tormenting comments quickly send Louis down a path of self destruction. And after a certain point, there's no turning back....Highest ranking on Wattpad:#1 in #Punk#1 in #IHateYou#9 in #louistomlinson#49 in #LoveHateRelationship#52 in #IHateMyself





	1. bullshit

January 3

Louis' POV

It's about 9:45pm when I finally arrive at the bar. I rush inside, flustered by how late I am, and try to flag down Liam, who I had spotted at one of the tables in the back.

"Oy," Liam groans, slapping me on the back as I approach him. "You're always fucking late."

"That I am," I reply, rolling my eyes. "Good to see you."

"Hey," Niall says, waving from the booth.

"Hey there," I reply. I wave to him and begin to take a seat next to Liam. It's not until after I remove my jacket and gloves that I notice a third person sitting at the table, next to Niall in the corner.

"I don't think we've met," I say to the new guy, extending a hand. He grips it roughly, giving it a shake that was more thorough than I was comfortable with.

"We haven't," he says, raising an eyebrow. "I'm Harry."

I nod. "Nice to meet you, I'm Louis."

It's sort of hard to see Harry because of how dimly lit the bar is. But from what I can make out, he has curly, shoulder length hair, and colorful eyes. Blue, maybe?

He has this nose that's really prominent, and these lips that are plump and pouty. Overall, he's a very good looking guy.

Normally, I'm not one for meeting new people, and I was kind of annoyed when I realized Niall had brought someone outside our usual trio.

But I guess Harry could be an exception. Let's just hope he was into guys...

"Harry's my friend from uni. Moved to London not too long ago," Niall explains, hopping up from the booth. "I'll get us another pitcher of Guinness, yeah?"

"Sounds good," I say with a nod.

I didn't care, I would drink anything, especially if Niall was paying. With my writer's salary, I probably couldn't even afford one drink at a high scale bar like this, let alone pitchers.

Liam and Niall, on the other hand, worked in consulting and pretty much walked around carrying at least 500 quid at all times.

Ironically enough, they still had the alcohol preferences of uni students, and they often chose to spend their money on overpriced beer rather than the fancy cocktails the bars are actually known for.

"How's it going, Liam?" I say, turning to him. I grab his glass and take a sip -- nearly spitting it out. "The fuck is that?"

"Angry Orchard," Liam replies, chuckling. "If you had asked me before chugging it down, you would have known you weren't going to like it."

Harry folds his hands on the table, smirking at me. "Impulsive one, aren't you?" he asks. His voice is deep, monotone almost.

I can't tell if he's joking with me or laughing at me. Either way, I brush off the comment, handing Liam his beer back and grabbing some peanuts to get the gross flavor out of my mouth.

"So Harry, what do you do?" I ask, crunching on the nuts.

Harry shrugs. "This and that," he replies.

"So you're in art?" I ask, narrowing my gaze.

"Bingo," Liam says. "He's a poet."

"A poet?" I ask, flashing Harry a wide smile. "That's pretty fucking cool. I'm a writer myself. Well, at least I try to be. Freelance isn't going amazingly right now."

Harry leans closer towards the table, folding his hands behind his head and letting out a tiny yawn. "Yeah, I've done some freelance. Prefer to just do poetry though. I was a Spanish major in uni, so I write in both languages," he says.

"Ay, move your arse, Harry, help me with this shit before I spill it," Niall shouts, nearly stumbling over with the pitcher and a bunch of cups.

Harry slides out of the booth and stands up. I'm able to get a better look at him now. Fuck, he's tall. 6 foot at least. He towers over Niall, which means he probably towers over me even more.

If I was into domination that would be sort of hot. But I'm not. What? I'm really not.

Harry places the beer on the table and returns to his seat, with Niall following after him. Since I'm closest to the pitcher, I grab the cups and pour out four pints, handing them out to each lad.

"Oh my fuck, Niall," I laugh as I hand him his drink. "Did you fucking get your hair dyed?"

"We were just talking about this!" howls Liam. "He finally got rid of the frosted tips."

Niall shakes his head, smiling at both of us. "Okay, okay, laugh all you want. I finally realized I couldn't be an N-Sync member," he replies.

"I quite liked the tips," says Harry, deadpan.

Niall, Liam and I look at each other and then break out laughing, nearly sloshing out beer onto the table.

Harry laughs too, throwing his head back and slapping Niall on the back. But it looks a bit forced, overdramatized, and part of me isn't entirely sure he was joking.

"So how's it been, Lou?" Niall asks, taking a sip of his beer. "Long time no see."

I shrug, chugging a bit of beer. It's a bit too frothy for my liking.

"Same old, writing here, working at Costa there," I reply. "I recently had to--"

"Costa," Harry interrupts, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah," I say. "How do you live in the UK and not know what a bloody Costa is?"

"Yeah, what's that about mate?" Liam laughs.

"I know what it is," Harry replies. The words leave his mouth slowly, lazily, as if it's too much effort to talk any faster. "Just thought you were a writer. Do you have a degree?"

Is he fucking joking?

"I have a degree," I reply. "We all have degrees. Liam and I went to the same uni in Newcastle. Writing doesn't pay my bills, so I work at Costa on the weekends. If you haven't noticed, London is expensive."

Harry raises his hands in the air like he's been caught in the middle of a crime. "Okay, okay," he says. "Sorry to offend you, just didn't know...."

"London is expensive, mate," Niall says, cutting Harry off. "But yeah, you should rethink Costa. Can't you do better?"

Wow. I didn't come here tonight to be fucking attacked. Since when did my friends judge me based on what kind of job I had and how much money I made? This was bullshit.

"I could, but I might get manager soon, and I would make a lot more," I say. I drain my beer and reach for another. Fuck this shit.

"But would you want to be a manager at a fucking Costa?" Liam asks, raising an eyebrow.

I turn to Liam, my best friend of five years. He knew me back when I was waiting tables at Nando's and writing other student's essays illegally to make ends meet in college.

Since when did he fucking care how I made my money?

"Not sure," I reply, sharply. "Anyways, the game last night, yeah? Barca fucked us."

Niall nods energetically. "We were winning most of the came too," he cries, slamming his empty glass down. "Fuck them, the weather is better in Spain, so they can practice more."

"Not quite sure if that's how it works, but sure," Harry says. He stares into the bottom of his cup, swirling it around about before finishing the final drops.

"Yo, remember when we played together in club football a few months ago?" Liam chimes in. "We finally got back some of the professional shots."

Liam pulls them up on his phone and passes it to me. "Sick!" I reply, scrolling through the photos.

There's a bunch of me, mid-kick, with my face totally focused and my legs rippling with muscle. I look pretty fine if I don't say so myself.

"Awesome," I say, handing the phone off to Niall, who has been reaching for it impatiently.

"Oh, yeah. Mid-kicking shots," Niall says, raising an eyebrow. "Wanna see Harry?"

Harry nods, though his expressionless face doesn't really seem to indicate any real form of desire.

"Wow," he says, wrinkling his nose. "Is that Louis?"

"Yeah, that's him," Niall confirms. "He plays offense."

"Wow, not to be rude, lad, but you've put on major weight since then," Harry says, raising an eyebrow at me.

WHAT. THE. FUCK.

The photos were from a few months ago when soccer was in season. I haven't been practicing or working out, so I'm not as in shape as I was then, but there's certainly not enough of a difference to warrant 'major weight.'

Niall takes the phone, looking at the screen and back up at me. "Oh, yeah, you definitely have," he says. "Stand up."

I grip my pint glass, genuinely surprised that it doesn't explode into a fine powder beneath my tight grasp.

First, my job is being ridiculed, now my weight. It must be 'Let's Fucking Torment Louis Day.' Either that or my friends absolutely suck.

"Fuck off," I groan, rolling my eyes. "I haven't been working out. Probably just a few pounds. I'll get back in shape soon."

"Dunno, mate," Harry says. "It looks like more than that..."

"Well," I reply, glaring at him. "Thanks for pointing it out, mate. I appreciate it!"

"I mean, beer also isn't the best choice for you... Maybe a gin and tonic?" Harry suggests.

I swear I see him smile for the first time all night and grab onto the wooden frame of the booth to prevent myself from slapping that fucking grin off his face.

"Oh is it not a good choice?" I ask, grabbing the pitcher.

I begin to drink directly from it, chugging it down wildly. Liam stares at me in disgust, and Niall shakes his head. Harry stares blankly at me. They can all go fuck themselves.

"Don't be so sensitive, Lou," Liam says. "We're only joking."

I remove my mouth from the pitcher, gasping for air. "I know," I reply. "Just joking around."

**********************

After he said that to me, I couldn't think of anything else. Who the fuck did he think he was, telling me I looked like I had gained weight? What the fuck kind of fucking comment is that?

The quip about my job was bad enough, but making fun of my fucking body? That had crossed the line.

I burst open the door to my apartment, my hands shaking with rage as I stomp into the kitchen. I have a bloody scale somewhere in this house, though I haven't used it in ages.

Maybe it was because I didn't really care or maybe it was because I was too scared to know the number. Either way, I would be finding out tonight.

Grumbling, I fish around in the closet and eventually find the metal contraption in the very back underneath an old mop. I wipe the dust off and place it on the tile floor of my kitchen, not bothering to take my shoes off before I step on.

Fuck.

Jesus Fuck.

I was expecting a 5 lb difference from the last time I weighed myself. 10 pounds tops. But even if you subtracted 2 pounds from shoes and clothes and shit, I had gained 15 pounds.

Fuck. Fuck Fuck.

Fuck it, just fuck it, I think. I toss the scale back into the closet, not caring whether it breaks or not.

They want to fucking make fun of my weight? Well fuck them, I thought. I said I would get back to training. Well, training starts fucking Now.

I'm decently drunk, but I still manage to slip off my Vans and slide on a pair of running sneakers. I exchange my jeans for shorts, and then I head down to my apartments rec room.

It's completely empty, as you would expect it to be at 3am. I start up one of the treadmills and begin running for the first time in ages.

It doesn't take long before I begin to feel sick. I'm only about a half mile in when the beer sloshing around in my stomach begins to make a reappearance.

And as I lean over the side of the platform, overcome with nausea, and begin to heave, I only have one thought on my mind: fuck You Harry Styles. Fucking Fuck you.

///////////

Trying something totally new here - love/ hate relationship. bullying. let's see what happens.

Thanks for checking this out :*

-s


	2. diet

January 13

Louis' POV

"Tea, no milk no sugar," I say when I get to the coffee shop on Monday morning.

It's been three days since I met with Liam and the guys. Three days since Harry made fun of my weight... and my job. Three days since I started dieting.

Dieting - if you can even call it that. Usually, I eat whatever the fuck I want, on a pretty erratic schedule.

Some mornings I have a huge stack of pancakes for breakfast, other days I have a cup of coffee. For lunch, I might have pizza or a sandwich or maybe just toast with jam.

Dinner is usually a curry or a burger or lunch leftovers if I have some.

If I have a snack, it'll probably be something out of the vending machine - crisps or a granola bar or something.

My eating habits aren't particularly healthy, but it never used to be a problem before. In uni, I would eat and drink a ton, and I hardly gained weight.

I guess that's the toll that comes with getting older: your metabolism starts to slow down and you can't eat the things you used to anymore.

I'm so thankful to Harry for pointing that out to me.

After I get my drink, I take a seat in the corner of the cafe and sip on my bland, plain tea, wrinkling my nose as it goes down.

So far, I've been having fruit smoothies and whole grain toast with turkey and Greek yogurt and those noodles that are really made of zucchini or beans or whatever.

It all tastes pretty bland to me, but being fit is much more important right now than being able to eat things with flavor.

Besides, I have seasoning salt, and I pour that shit on everything. Works like a charm.

I do miss the old foods though. I really wanted to get a pastry with my tea, but I knew the only 'healthy' option would be some gluten free vegan bean brownie or some shit.

And it wasn't even worth it to me in the end.

As I gag down my tea, which is now lukewarm, I open my laptop and begin to write a new article.

'How far is too far? Are boys just being boys - or are they engaging in a cycle of toxic masculinity and bullying?'

I stare at the headline, reading it over to check for typos. Perhaps it's a little too far-fetched. But I think I'm going to keep it.

When I get this published - or if I get this published - the first thing I'm going to do is send it to that fuck wad Harry Styles.

Harry Styles. Liam said he was a poet. But who is he really? I bet you he's lying.

Squinting my eyes, I type his name into Google.

The first hit reads: Harry Styles, wins 2018 Bilingual Poetry Contest.

Bilingual poetry? Oh right, he said he also wrote in Spanish. Alright, I know a bit of Spanish, I think to myself. Let's see this bastard's work.

I click on the link, where Harry's works are supposedly featured and his poems begin to pop up. He entered the category of love poems.

I snort out loud when I see that, causing the person sitting next to me to shoot me a dirty look. Fuck, them. This is too fucking funny.

Harry is making fun of my job? At least I write fucking real news and critiques. He's at home jerking off and writing love poems. Give me a fucking break.

The poem reads:

Eliza

Mi corazón (my heart)

Mi alma (my soul)

Mi pasión (my passion)

Todos son tuyos (they are all yours)

Toda parte de mi cuerpo es tuya (every part of my body is yours)

Siempre ha sido (and always has been)

Eliza

Your lips

Your eyes

Your thighs

They're all beautiful

You're beautiful

You always have been

Eliza

Te he perdido (I have lost you)

Es mi culpa, mía (it's my fault, mine)

Y no sé qué hacer (I don't know what to do)

Yo no quiero vivir (I don't want to live)

Yo no quiero comer (I don't want to eat)

Sin ti (without you)

Eliza

I'm sorry

I'm sorry I hurt you

Words can't fix this

Neither can kisses

It's my fault I lost you

Eliza

No puedo seguir (I can't go on)

No puedo salir (I can't leave)

Estoy aquí (I am here)

Siempre esperando (always waiting)

Tu amor (for your love)

Tu perdón (your forgiveness)

Tu beso (your kiss)

Oh. My. Fucking. God. Harry mother fucking Styles is a softie.

He's sensitive - or at least he's pretending to be in the poem. But how can you fake emotion like that? How can you just make that up?

Whatever happened with this Eliza person - or whoever she is - really has him upset. I doubt it's a fabrication.

I read the poem again, scanning for structure and style. It's good. Decent. But not award worthy - it's nothing I haven't seen before.

It sort of looks like he just took the general format other love poems in English and Spanish and mashed them together.

The judges are calling it 'so unique,' but I shake my head at my computer screen. Fuck that.

Sighing, I return to my article, preparing to do some research on the claims I'm making. But in the back of my mind, all I can think about is Harry moaning Eliza's name, begging Eliza not to leave, hoping she'll forgive him.

Part of me is glad he's hurting - after all he hurt me. The other part, the part that believes in karma, sort of feels bad. But in the end, it doesn't really matter anyway.

******************************************************************************************

January 26

"Louis, what the fuck?" Liam asks. We're sitting in our favorite restaurant for fish and chips and I just ordered a salad, instead of the usual special - fish, chips and a fountain soda for 17 pounds.

"What?" I ask. My eyes flick up towards his face, annoyed.

"Why are you getting a fucking salad. It's just iceberg lettuce and some pre-cooked chicken - they probably don't even wash the lettuce," he says, sticking his tongue out and pretending to gag.

"Gotta start eating healthy, Li," I say, shrugging. "I heard your comments loud and clear at the pub."

Liam looks at his hands, trying to recall our pub night. "Oh, fuck. Niall and Harry saying you gained weight?" he recalled. "Fuck them, lad. Don't worry about it."

"Well it's too late," I say, taking a sip of my water. "I'm already worried buy it. Weighed myself and I gained over a stone. Disgusting."

Liam nods. "Well, that's not good. I guess maybe it is time for a diet then. Happens to all of us."

"Yeah," I reply. "So what's new with you?"

Liam runs a hand through his light brown hair, his eyes focusing on the cutlery before him. "I don't know. Things are kind of rough with Zayn. He's been on business for two months and they're extending the trip to five months now," Liam says, his face falling a bit.

"Oh fuck," I reply, frowning as my ice burg lettuce salad arrives. It looks even more unappetizing than I expected, with wilted leaves and overcooked chunks of chicken. Maybe it's better to not eat at all.

"Yeah, fuck is right," Liam says, smiling up at the waitress as she hands him his fish and chip platter.

I stare at Liam's food, my mouth watering. I would kill to have that right now. But I'm two weeks strong on this diet - and I've already lost five pounds. I can't stop now.

It's addicting honestly - stepping on that scale and seeing the results. It seems like the healthier I eat and the more I work out, the faster the weight comes off. It's sort of like a game, and with each pound lost, I feel a rush of energy, euphoria.

It's like I'm finally doing something right. Like, maybe, even if websites are rejecting all my articles, and my job at Costa fucking sucks, I'm still making progress by losing weight and eating right. I'm bettering myself, moving forward, making a difference.

"Louis? Did you hear what I asked you?" Liam says, furrowing his brow.

"Fuck, sorry," I reply, biting my lip.

"I said we may call it off - I just, he's cheated before and I can't trust him when he's over there in fucking Milan, of all places," Liam grumbles, popping a chip into his mouth.

I stab a piece of lettuce with my fork, and nearly gag as I realized there's no dressing on it. I had asked for no dressing - because it was healthier.

But there's salt and spices next to me, so I start to pour them on top quickly, hoping to give it at least a tiny bit of flavor.

"Wow," I say, putting the salt back in its place. "I mean, yeah, I do remember him cheating last year. And five months is a long time. Maybe you can try an open relationship? I've heard it works sometimes."

Liam shakes his head. "No," he says. "I'm not doing that with Zayn. I'm not interested in anyone else, and it would only benefit him. I'm just... it's all or nothing for me."

"Well you can visit him, can't you?" I ask. The chicken is worse than it looks and I resist the urge to hold my nose as it goes down. I barely chew it, just swallow it to get it down and then chug water.

"Are you alright?" Liam asks, raising an eyebrow. "If you don't like it, send it back."

I shake my head, dramatically. "What? No," I say. "It's really good. Wanna try some?"

I extend my fork towards Liam, but he pushes my hand away. "Fuck off, wanker," he says. "That chicken looks like the inside of a pussy."

It really does - and it tastes like it too. Yuck.

"Anyways, yeah, I can visit him. But I only have 4 vacation days left. It wouldn't be worth it really, either because Zayn has work every day except Sundays," Liam explains. "Or so he says...."

"I mean, I have no idea what kind of work schedules models have," I begin, shoving the final bite of chicken down my throat. "But yeah, that sounds sketchy. Dunno, Li. It sounds tough."

"Tough is an understatement," Liam says, grabbing a piece of fish. "This is so bloody good by the way. Do you want a bite?"

I stare at the fish. Of course I want it - of course I fucking want that delicious, salty, golden brown fillet of pleasure. But I can't. I can't. I can't.

Harry's voice rings in my ears: Major weight. You've put on major weight.

Fuck the fillet, Louis, I tell myself. You'll only be proving Harry right.

"No thanks," I reply, shaking my head.

"Diet must be strict, yeah?" Liam snorts, rolling his eyes. "Zayn's a model and he doesn't even do that shit. He would eat a few bites of my junk food every now and again."

I shrug, feeling my face turn red. Is it really that weird to turn down food?

"Just not in the mood," I say, looking down at my plate. "Anyways, keep me posted about Zayn. I suggest Skyping him, talking it out. What did Niall say?"

Liam nods, pursing his lips together. "Ni, said the same thing. Talk to him or try to visit," Liam replies. "Harry said to just end it, there are other fish in the sea."

HARRY. Since when was Liam talking to fucking Harry?

"Oh, you've seen Harry again?" I ask, trying to mask the pain in my voice.

"Yeah, he stops by the office sometimes. Does a bit of work for us sometimes. Creative things," he says casually.

"Oh," I reply, nodding.

Yeah, CREATing fucking sappy ass love poems about some stupid girl who he probably screwed over and drove away anyway.

"Um, well, that's kind of harsh advice. I wouldn't dump him just yet," I continue, noticing that Liam is eyeing me suspiciously.

"Yeah," Liam replies. "Well, we'll see. Harry is usually right on the money when it comes to character."

HAHAHAHAHAHA.

It takes everything inside of me not to cackle in Liam's face right now. This has to be a joke, right? Someone tell me. Where are the hidden cameras? I'm ready.

"What does he think of me then?" I ask. The question surprises me as much as it surprises Liam - honestly, I hadn't even expected myself to ask such a thing.

But sometime's Louis' tongue and Louis' brain don't coordinate with each other before spewing something out, like when I told my grandmother that the sweater she made me would come in handy when it came to picking up guys.

She didn't know I was gay.

"Oh, he thinks you're chill," Liam says, not making eye contact.

"And?" I ask, jutting out my lower lip.

"And, a bit sensitive, like can't always take a joke," he adds, chuckling. "He's not wrong...."

"Fuck off, Liam," I reply, rolling my eyes. I push away my salad, which still has a few bites left.

My appetite - which was already pretty nonexistent after the chicken texture incident - is now gone completely.

Liam chuckles, popping another fish fillet into his mouth. "See," he giggles. "Perfect example."

I glare in his direction.

He can go to fucking hell.


	3. Eliza

WARNING - If you haven't noticed already, Louis is engaging in disordered eating patterns and heading in the direction of an eating disorder. Please caution yourself if you're easily triggered. Also note that I don't condone any of the dieting/behaviors that he's engaging in. They're clearly unhealthy.

Feb 1

Louis POV

"You're hot and you're cold, you're yes and you're no, you're in --"

I open my phone and immediately switch off my alarm, groaning as the sunlight hits my eyes. It's 7 in the morning on a Saturday and I have to go to fucking work at Costa. Fuck me.

Rubbing my eyes, I head to the bathroom to wash my face. Damn, I look rough. My eyes are bloodshot and my skin is sort of pale.

It's probably because I didn't sleep well last night. This diet has been tiring me out, and I spend the whole day exhausted and hungry.

But when I finally come home and get ready for bed, I can't fall asleep.

Embarrassingly enough, to pass the time before I go to sleep, I go on Instagram and look up photos of food.

Giant cheeseburgers and Nutella donuts and cheesy pizzas. It makes my mouth water, and I have half a mind to go into the kitchen and eat everything in sight.

Sadly, all I have in my fridge right now is diet yogurt and lettuce.

Fuck me.

I guess some people would say I'm taking things to the extreme. Liam and Niall have both given me shit over it when I last saw them, saying that it's okay to eat rubbish every once and a while, even on a diet.

But whenever I try to eat some, all I can think about it stupid Harry Styles and his stupid comments.

"I mean, beer also isn't the best choice for you... maybe a gin and tonic?"

Harry doesn't need to worry about that. I don't drink beer anymore. I don't drink anything but water and plain tea. Tastes like shit, but it's worth it, or it will be.

Grimacing, I remove my shirt and look in the mirror. My stomach is much flatter than it was - and I've lost about 12 pounds so far.

I still feel like I can do better, though, like I can get fitter. I used to have abs - not this gross, flabby mess in front of me.

Ugh.

I head back to my room to change, grimacing as I realize I only have about 5 minutes to get down to the Tube before I'm late.

I shove on my uniform - a black polo and khakis - and pull on a pair of vans. Then I grab a protein bar and shove it in my pocket along with my phone and wallet before heading downstairs.

The Tube is late, of course, and so am I - by 12 minutes. I have the opening shift, so of course ,there's an angry group of 'early risers' waiting for me when I get there to open shop.

I'm just praying my manager doesn't come in within the next hour. I don't need anyone finding out about this.

I unlock the door and head to the back, ready to take on these wannabe hipsters who are literally only here so they can post a photo of their journal in the middle of the coffee shop saying '7am - love my early mornings.'

Rolling my eyes, I head to the register and begin taking customer orders.

My other coworker is coming in at 7:30, as it's usually a two person job, but she lives an hour away so the manager lets her come in late sometimes.

Either that, or she's fucking him.

I spend the next two hours brewing coffee and taking orders and trying not to fall asleep as I prepare lattes.

Halfway through my shift, I notice my stomach is aching - burning almost. And that's when I notice I forgot to eat.

I'm sort of proud of myself for holding out that long - the old me would have scarfed down at least two pastries by now. But I'm still going strong - kind of.

Even though it hurts and I can easily munch on my protein bar until it's time for my break, I decide to test myself and see how long I can go without eating.

I wonder if I can make it until my lunch at 12pm. I only have an hour to go.

In the midst of my eating plans, however, a customer comes up to the front.

"Louis?" I hear someone say.

Fuck.

I pause for a moment before I turn around. Is it who I think it is? It can't be. It can't be.

"Hi Harry," I say, forcing a tight-lipped smile as I turn around to find him standing before me, clad in black trousers, loafers and a white collared shirt.

"So this is the Costa?" he says, wagging an eyebrow at me. His eyes look bright in the noon sunlight, and I realize that they're not blue after all.

They're green, a deep green, like lily pads in a pond I once saw in Paris as a kid.

"How've you been?" he asks, putting a hand on the counter. His voice is deep, and as always, emotionless. It's the voice of an asshole.

"Good, I've been doing some publishing," I reply. "What can I get you?"

"That's good. A latte please," Harry says, glancing at his phone. "Actually, make that two."

I nod and put the order into the computer, though I wish there was an option to place an order for two cups of shit instead of two lattes. "Got it, and how've you been?"

"I've been good, my new poems just won an award," Harry says. He leans his head back, looking up at the ceiling as he says it, a sly smile forming on his lips.

"That's great, Congrats," I reply politely.

Harry nods, his hair falling into his eyes a little. "It is, isn't it?"

Was that it? Was that the end of our conversation. 'Hey, what are you up to.... nothing?.... great, well I just won an award... please congratulate me, lowly Costa worker...'

I make a mental note to tell my coworker to spit in his drink - and if she doesn't I will. In fact, maybe I should do it myself, it'll be more personal that way.

"Oh, excuse me a second, she's here," Harry mumbles, walking swiftly to the entrance.

He walks back to the register with a tall, thin blonde wrapped around his arm. How other customers aren't on line right now during noon rush, I don't know.

But Harry is now taking the opportunity to introduce me to this woman.

"Louis, this is Eliza," Harry says with his deep monotone.

Am I supposed to shake her hand over the counter of my fucking 'dead end Costa job'? He can suck a dick.

"Nice to meet you," I reply, waving. "Your coffees will be right up."

Wait - Eliza. Eliza from the poem? Oh my gosh. Wow. I didn't know she was real.

When the latetes are finished I place them on the counter, and they each take one. I expect them to walk away like normal people, but of course, Harry stands around, lingering.

I wonder again why the fuck there are no other customers in this cafe right now... I would rather be helping someone else than dealing with Harry.

"You look different," Harry says, wrinkling his nose as he takes a sip of his lattee. "Did you change something?"

"Um, lost a bit of weight," I say quietly. Are we really having this conversation right now?

Harry nods, looking at Eliza, who is currently texting, and then returns his attention to me.

"That must be it," he says, eyeing me up and down. "No more beer, right? What diet are you on?"

The fuck off Harry Styles diet. That's what I'm on. I resist the urge to roll my eyes and jump over the counter and pour his latte all over his stupid white shirt.

"Not really anything specific, just eating healthier. Fruit and veg. Greek yogurt. Whole wheat toast. Turkey breast," I list off. "I've also been working out a lot more."

Harry nods, glancing back over at Eliza, who's sipping her latte with a bored expression. "Well, keep at it," Harry says. "Maybe you'll get that football body back after all. Anyways, we have to run. Catch you later at the pub, yeah?"

"Yeah," I say, waving goodbye. I watch them exit the cafe, and then go to the back room, where I kick a chair and crumple a coffee cup in my bare hands.

Maybe I'll get that soccer body back? Maybe? Oh, that fucking wanker. I'll show him. I'll get that soccer body back and then some... I'll become the next fucking Arnold.

But honestly, I'm not even as annoyed about his comments about my weight as I am about the whole Eliza situation. What the fuck was that? Who was she? And why the fuck did he introduce me to her?

I begin to feel dizzy for a moment and hold onto the counter for support. When I look at my watch, I see that it's only 12:30pm. I feel weak and exhausted as shit, but I can hold out another 30 minutes can't I?

A/N: yikes. This is so sad to write, but it's How eating disorders start. Sometimes one rude comment can destroy a person and send them spiraling.


	4. baby

Feb 1 (continued)

My coworker decided to switch lunch breaks with me, so I ended up getting off at 12:40pm instead of one.

I still wanted to wait until 1pm, you know, to see if I could do it, so I headed out to the back of the cafe for a smoke.

Usually, there's no one around.

The only other store that has a back opening is a nail salon, and hardly anyone comes out of there, aside from one guy who occasionally takes a smoke break and has a screaming match with his girlfriend over the phone in a foreign language.

I light up and close my eyes, bringing the cigarette to my lips. It's kind of fucked up but I've found that cigs work well as an appetite suppressant.

I know it's kind of cheating, but sometimes I'm so hungry I can't take it, and this is my solution. And I've always been a big smoker anyways.

It's so blissful, so relaxing. I crave the release.

Unfortunately, my five minutes of solitude are interrupted when I hear voices coming from the parking lot nearby.

It's the voice of a man and a woman - though I can't really get a good look at them. They're behind the nail salon, on the opposite side, which is out of my view.

Rolling my eyes, I go to take a peak. Who the fuck is out here ruining my smoke break?

As the side of the building comes into view, I do a double take. This has to be a fucking joke...

I blink my eyes twice, just to make sure I'm not on camera for some sort of dramedy film or a reality TV show called 'How many times a day can we drive Louis Crazy?'

This is just too crazy to actually be real.

But it is. Sadly enough. As I re-open my eyes, Harry is still standing there against the wall with Eliza.

He's not just standing there either - he's having a conversation with her. A loud conversation. In fact, if I just inch a little bit closer, I can start to make out the words.

"Liza, please, baby," Harry says. This is the first time I ever heard Harry speak with any form of emotion or intonation.

His face actually seems to be showing emotion too. The pouty, conceited smile he usually sports is now gone, and has been replaced by wide eyes and a distraught looking frown.

"No," Eliza replies. Her voice is high-pitched, piercing, a comical juxtaposition to Harry's baritone. "I fucking told you, Harry. I don't want you to be a part of this."

Be a part of what?

I shouldn't be listening to gossip and I've definitely gone over on my lunch break, but I don't care.

This is just way too juicy to pass up. And if I could simultaneously be entertained and get some real dirt on Harry Styles?

That would be like winning the fucking lotto.

"Liza," Harry repeats. He's grabbing her face now, gently.

Their faces are so close that it looks like they might kiss, but based on Eliza's angered expression, that won't be happening anytime soon.

"I apologized so many times," he says. "You don't even have to forgive me... you can still hate me... but please, just let me have this."

I put my cigarette out, crushing it on the pavement with the heal of my sneaker. Is someone ever going to explain what the fuck this conversation is about?

"Harry, I seriously need you to get your hands off of me," Eliza snapped. She removed his hands swiftly, and Harry took a step back, placing his arms across his chest.

"Do you really think you can just write some stupid poem and that it'll fix everything," she continues.

OH SHIT. Oh shit. She really went there. Get me some fucking popcorn.

"I don't even read Spanish, Harry. Fuck you! I don't care."

Oh my god. She's destroying him. This is amazing.

I look over at Harry, who's shoving his hands into his pockets, and putting his head down like a dog who knows they've done something wrong.

"I know," he says, slowly. "I know it doesn't make a difference. It even says that in the poem, Liza. I know... I just. I still care about you, about us...."

"Fuck off, Harry," Eliza says. She's turning like she's about to go, pushing her blonde hair out of her bright blue eyes.

Honestly, they're a cute couple - or they were. They're both tall, lean and beautiful.

They look like they could be supermodels.... not that I think Harry is attractive or anything. I mean he is, objectively. But I don't have any personal opinions on his looks.

"Wait!" Harry's voice nearly startles me. He's running after Eliza now, though she hasn't even gotten more than a few steps away yet.

"It's my baby too!" Harry cries out.

HOLY FUCK. Did he just...?

"Well it's none of your business, Harry," Eliza replies. "I'm raising it alone."

OH MY GOD. NO FUCKING WAY.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Feb 6

It's 8pm on a Thursday and Niall and I are going out for a couple of drinks.

I haven't seen him in two weeks, and I'm sure things are bustling in the office, so we'll have a ton to talk about.

Plus, he recently started dating a new girl, and I definitely want to chat him up on that, especially considering my love life is nonexistent.

"Hey, Lou," Niall says, slapping me on the back as he enters the lobby of the pub. He turns to me and makes a confused face. "You feel thin, man. You still on that diet, yeah?"

I blush. "Yeah," I reply. "Lost most of the weight."

That's a lie. I've lost all of the weight, and a little more. I guess I should be finished now, but I can't really find a way to stop.

If I lost a few more pounds, I could probably get my abs to be visible, or get those V lines I've been dying for. Besides, if I went back to unhealthy eating now, my body would probably just go back to shit.

"Well, I think you're good to stop, lad," Niall says, raising an eyebrow. "You feel lean to me."

"Ay, thanks mate," I say with a nod. "Anyways, let's go get some drinks."

Niall nods and follows me to the bar area, where I order a gin and tonic.

I shouldn't be drinking, but I ate less today and I've double checked and Harry was right - gin and tonics are low calorie and do the least damage when it comes to drinking.

Niall orders a Guinness.

"No beer tonight, mate?" he asks.

"Nah, not feeling it," I reply.

"Right. So how've you been?" he says.

I want to tell him the truth. About how I've been getting really into this diet and how I've been writing tons of articles but still getting no hits and how I found out this super awesome, juicy amazing gossip about my arch-nemesis Harry Styles... but I settle on:

"Not much, writing here and there, how about you?"

"What are you writing about?" Niall asks. "And honestly, nothing. But I do want to tell you about Caroline."

"Sweet... yeah, tell me, mate," I reply, smiling. "And, oh I've kind of been researching about psychology. Male friendships and behaviors. It's interesting."

"That does sound interesting. And okay, so we've hooked up before, like ages ago. But I don't know - she reached out again out of nowhere and we started texting," Niall began, a smile creeping across his face. "And I kind of liked her, so I asked if she wanted to hang out. We've been on two dates so far, dinner for one and the movies for another. She's really sweet, and we have chemistry I think."

"Ni, that's awesome!" I say, grabbing my gin and tonic as it arrives. "I'm so happy for you. What's she like?"

Niall shrugs, taking a sip of the Guinness that's just been placed in front of him at the bar. "Well, she's really into football, like me. She also works in business. A lot in common I guess, and a great sense of humor. I could be serious about her, dunno yet though."

I smile, but it doesn't feel genuine.

Yes, I'm certainly happy for Niall - he's been my best friend for years. But deep down, I feel a jealous pang whenever the topic of romance is mentioned, no matter who it is that's talking.

Taking a sip of my G&T, I begin to rack my brain for anyone I might be interested in. I surprise myself by gagging on the drink - I guess I had forgotten how much I hate the taste of gin.

But this is literally the only thing on the menu that's not laden with carbs and calories, aside from a pure shot. It'll have to do.

"Anyways, mate," Niall continues. "Have you been dating?"

Fuck. I'm still mentally going through the list in my head and I'm coming up zero. I can't think of the last time I have kissed someone - or been kissed.

Maybe six months ago, back when I was using Tinder like a fiend. I was on a new date every night, and in the end, I had to delete the app because I couldn't even keep track of all the messages coming in...

"Not really since my Tinder fiasco," I admit, forcing more of the drink into my mouth.

"Ay, well I think Harry said there's someone he could set you up with," Niall suggests.

I nearly spit out my drink. WHY THE FUCK IS EVERYONE HANGING OUT WITH HARRY AND NOT ME?

Of course, I don't tell Niall that. I just force a smile and say: "Oh, really. Who?"

"A lad from his poetry group," Niall says. "He says you'd like him - writers liking writers and all. He can text you his number and all."

I nod, draining my drink and setting it down on the table. "Sure," I reply coolly. "Maybe."

"Yeah, well, wouldn't hurt right?" Niall says. "Anyways, Lou, are you okay because it looks like you're attempting to swallow one of those potions on Big Brother? Was something wrong with your drink?"

I shake my head. "No," I say quickly. "No, I just drank it too fast I guess. There's a lot of gin in there."

Niall nods, but his blue eyes trace my face, searching for answers. "I mean if this has to do with the diet - like, low-calorie drinks and all... Is this about what Harry said? Like to have G&T instead of beer? You know we were joking. You looked fine."

I fight the urge to tell Niall everything, about how badly Harry hurt my feelings, how much I've taken everything he's said to heart.

He's my best friend and I know I can share anything with him, and he'll still love me no matter what. But I just don't want to talk about this right now.

Why does Harry have to be the center of every conversation?

"No, I know it was a joke," I say quietly. "I know."

"Alright, good. I mean, you'd tell us if we were being dicks to you right?" Niall asks. "I'm only asking because Liam said he sensed you might be upset with Harry... or upset about adding him to our friend group..."

FUCK. I just came here for a simple, non-confrontational drink, and now I'm being bombarded. I ask the bartender for another Gin and tonic.

"Yeah, no I'm fine with that, Niall, honestly. I admit he's a little rough around the edges. Very blunt," I reply. "We get on fine though. I have no issue with him."

"Great, so you'll come for pints with me, Harry and Liam tomorrow?" he asks.

My stomach clenches at the word 'pints' because there is no way I'm going to be chugging beer in front of Harry.

But if I say no, Niall will know how much I hate him.... and I don't want him to know that because... well, I'm not even sure why.

I guess it's because it's someone Niall and Liam really like, and they work with him, and if I try to mess that up, they'll just end up all hanging out without me.

Which has already been happening.

It doesn't even seem like I have a choice in this - it's either accept Harry or leave the group, and I am certainly not down for leaving.

"Yeah, yeah," I say. "I'll be there. That'll be fun to all catch up, yeah?"

Niall smiles and pats me on the back, sloshing his beer in the process. "Yeah, great, Harry. We're looking forward to it."

A/N: LOL is anyone enjoying this story? Because I'm not. I feel like it's so dismal and dark inside of Louis' angry mind - which is basically modeled after my own mind. I'm trying to create some drama with this Eliza thing - clearly inspired by "Kiwi" lyrics - but ehhhh idk if it's working. Also, don't worry, this is a Larry story. Lou has strong emotions for Harry - right now they're hateful, but I promise they'll turn around eventually. S E X U A L T E N S I O N is coming.


	5. sorry

Feb 7

I fumble with the collar on my black button down and run some product through my hair before heading out. I have no idea why I'm so nervous - I hang out with Liam and Niall all the time.

But then I remember why I'm freaking out. Harry is going to be there.

Wonderful.

Sighing, I pull on a coat, lock up and head to the Tube. It's only a 15 minute ride to the pub, but of course, there are delays again. Oh well. I guess I'll be fashionably late.

I walk into the pub about a half hour later, my heart beating rapidly. As I look around, I can spot Niall in a booth near the back, so I head over.

"Hey, mate!" Niall says, slapping me on the back.

"What's up?" Liam says, giving me a high five.

I look at Harry, awaiting a response. "Nice to see you again, Louis," he says, raising an eyebrow.

"Thanks. Hey guys," I say, sitting down next to Niall in the booth.

"So how's it going?" Liam asks. "Long time no see."

I resist the desire to roll my eyes. It has been a long time since I've seen Liam, but he's seen Harry plenty according to His snap stories.

"Yeah, I've been good, writing," I say cheerily. "Gonna get a quick drink."

"Don't worry, we have a pitcher," Niall says, pulling me by the arm and pointing towards the pitcher of Miller in front of us.

My stomach lurches and I pray to god that my face doesn't show my disgust. I can't have that beer - it'll just make me fat. Fat. Fat. Fat.

"You okay?" Liam asks, furrowing his brow as he takes a sip of his beer.

"Yeah," I nod. "Pitchers, great. Well, I might just get something at the bar. Not really feeling the beer..."

"Why not?" Harry asks. His green eyes connect with mine and he twirls a loose curl in his finger, licking his lips.

"I, um... I had it yesterday," I lie.

"No, you didn't. You got gin and tonic last night," Niall chimes in wagging a finger at me.

Niall and Liam look at each other and then nod. "Is this about The diet?" Liam asks.

I shrug and rub my cheeks, which feel hot. "Kinda."

"Mate, I told you, it's okay to get off it every once and a while," Niall says, laughing. "You're so uptight lately."

"Yeah, mate you've got to cool it, cheat day every now and then, yeah?" Liam adds.

"Yeah," I reply. I force a smile and reluctantly grab a cup. "Anyways, how have you all been?"

"Great!" Liam says, his brown eyes gleaming. "We're working on a new project at the firm. Making a new social media video for Pret. Harry's writing for us!"

"Oh that's so cool, Harry," I say, smiling in his direction. I mean, I'm a writer too... why Did they choose harry for the job and not ask me?

"Thanks, mate," Harry replies in a monotone. "I prefer poetry but dabble a bit in directing too. I wrote for HBO for a bit."

"Yeah, he's great," Niall gushes. "Super funny content!"

"Yeah. Mad skills. Another pitcher?" Liam asks, pointing at the empty one in front of us.

Niall and Harry nod and I force a bit of my untouched pint down my lips, hoping not to draw attention to the fact that I'm not drinking. The thick, calorific liquid drips down my throat and my stomach instantly feels full and bloated.

"Cool, I'll grab it," Liam says, hopping out of the booth.

"Ok. Gotta take a wee," Niall says. He also hops up and suddenly it's just Harry and me.

Fuck.

Harry smiles at me across the table. "So," Harry says. "That was a pretty good coffee. Best latte I ever had."

Wow. He was really going there. Making fun of my job again.

"I don't appreciate you putting down my job," I snap, locking eyes with him.

"Hey, I'm Not," Harry says, putting his hands in the air.

"Well, it's hard to tell with your monotone when you're sarcastic or not," I reply, looking down into my pint.

Harry chuckled, soft and slow. His green eyes peer over at me and he studies my face, perhaps searching for some sort of emotion.

But all I'm feeling is angry. Angry and disgusted.

"The monotone does make it hard," he admits. "Even my girlfriend... well ex-girlfriend, used to have a tough time reading me. I guess you can say I'm mysterious."

"Or you're just rude," I reply, instantly regretting how blunt I was being.

Harry laughs again. "I like your attitude," he replies, grinning at me. "Very direct. But yeah I can be rude. Was I ever rude to you?"

I shrug. "I don't know, were you?"

"Maybe. But I'm sorry if I was," Harry says slowly. "I have a bit of a bad attitude sometimes. Take my anger out on others. It's no way to act."

"Yeah," I reply. "It's okay. Just keep it under control I guess."

"I guess yeah," Harry says. "You're not gonna drink your beer?"

"I'd prefer a gin and tonic," I say, sassily. "I don't really need beer."

Harry stares at me, unblinking. "Oh my god," he says, covering his mouth with his hands. "I said that didn't I?"

I roll my eyes and nod.

"Oh man, yeah, I mean beer has a lot of calories - but I didn't mean it literally," Harry says, wincing a bit. I've never seen him look upset before, let alone apologetic. Interesting. "I was joking," he adds. "Sorry."

"It's okay," I reply, looking over at Liam and Niall who are now coming back to the table. "It was a wake-up call to me. How bad I looked."

"You didn't look bad," Harry says, leaning in towards the table. "I was being a jerk. I'm sorry...."

"Pitcher is here!" Liam shouts, cutting Harry off.

"Hell Yeah!" Niall chimes in, plopping down on the seat next to me. "We May or May not have done whiskey shots just now."

I shake my head and laugh. Classic Niall, always drinking too much.

As I look at the empty shot glasses Niall and Liam are holding, it gives me an idea. "Harry," I say. "Would you do a whiskey shot with me?"

If I have the whiskey - which is low calorie - there will be less pressure to drink the beer.

"Sure," Harry says, smiling. He's wearing black slacks and a white collared shirt which is tucked in. The neckline is cut low, revealing a bit of his chest hair and showcasing a gold chain necklace.

Harry follows me to the bar, his long legs quickly outpacing mine. "Two shots of Jameson," I tell the bartender. "Double shots please."

Harry turns to me, grabbing my shoulder with a strong grip. "Hey," he says. "Sorry if we got off on the wrong foot... I seriously didn't mean to offend you... I mean I suppose I did mean to. I did." 

I glare at him. "Okay, well that's really rude that you wanted to purposely offend me," I reply.

"It's not the reason you think though... it's just, I'm kind of struggling with something. I'm really sorry I took it out on you," he says. "Not that it excuses my behavior."

"Whatever," I say, rolling my eyes. The shots have arrived now and I grab one, waiting for Harry to grab his too so I Can down this shit.

"No, Louis," Harry says, grabbing my hand. He stares into my eyes, his mouth twisting into a frown. "I really am sorry, about that comment and anything else I said."

"Okay," I grunt. "Now take your damn shot glass, let's go!"

Harry grabs his glass and we clink them together, quickly throwing our heads back and drinking the bitter liquid.

"Costa," I say, as we head back to the table.

"What?" Harry asks.

"You made fun of my job at costa too," I say.

"Oh right," he says. "Sorry. Sorry. Fuck."

"Fuck is right," I add, slinking back into my seat.

"Are you lads down to get fucked up tonight?" Liam hoots, slapping Harry's back excitedly.

"Sure," he says, smiling widely.

"Mental," Niall says, his blue eyes lighting up. "By the way, harry What happened with that lad you were gonna set Louis up with?"

Harry perks up and looks in my direction. "Right, that's how I can make it up to you, Louis," he says excitedly. "His name is Andres. He's a doctor. Super sweet and very handsome. Big blue eyes."

I try not to smile because I don't want Harry to have his satisfaction. But inside I'm ecstatic. That sounds like a total hottie to me.

"I mean, thanks Harry, but —" I begin. But Niall cuts me off.

"But Nothing, Lou, he's really hot and you haven't been on a date in ages," he giggles.

Okay. Niall is either really drunk or he's just being a dick. Or maybe I'm just being really sensitive.

Regardless, I am not pleased that he shared that with harry. It's just another thing to hold over my head.

"I'll text you his number," Harry says, chuckling at Niall's comment. "Do with it what you will."

I nod, hoping he can't see how red my face is. I'm really confused where I even stand with this Harry styles guy.

First, he's extremely rude to me when he tries to apologize, but admits he was intentionally rude? That doesn't even make sense.

Harry should be careful around me. Because he has no idea, but I know his secret... and I will "do With it what I will" if it comes down to it.

"Ugh," Liam moans, putting his head down on the table. "Let's not talk about romance right now. Zayn and I broke up."

"Oh no, mate!" I say, reaching over and patting his shoulder sympathetically. "When?"

"Last night," Harry answers, jutting out a bottom lip.

So Liam told Harry before me, his friend of 5 years. Okay then.

"I'm so sorry, mate," I say. "Are you hanging in there?"

Liam nods, lifting up his head. "Yeah," he says softly. "It was kind of expected. He wasn't even surprised. Ever since he cheated, our relationship has been really rocky. I feel relieved. But it's still sad."

"Yeah," Niall agrees. "You're better off. But it still hurts. Don't worry though. When you feel better we can go out to the gay bars."

"Oh my gosh, Niall," I giggle. "You're not even gay, you're so misleading to all those guys."

Niall shimmies a bit in his seat. "can't help it if I've got the moves."

I smile at him, giggling as I remember the last time we went clubbing at a gay bar and I had to help him get away from a drag queen.

It almost feels like the old days - just the three of us. But it's not, Harry's here now, and he's ruining everything.

"I've never been to a gay bar," Harry says nonchalantly.

"Are you gay?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.

"Bi," he says. It sounds like more of a question than a statement. Kinky.

"It's a lot of fun," I say, shooting him a smile. "I bet you'll enjoy yourself."

"Maybe," Harry replies, shrugging.

"You will," Liam says. "Anyways, let's get more shots. Ready to get plastered."


	6. invasion

Trigger Warning: Serious eating disorder / unhealthy behavior

Feb 13

Work sucks today. It's Valentine's Day tomorrow, so we have all these heart shaped pastries and red-velvet lattes and all I want to do is dump them in the customer's faces.

V-Day always gets me in a bad mood, usually because I have no one to celebrate with. The last time I wasn't single on Valentine's Day was in uni when I was dating this guy named Brad.

He got me stale chocolates from Tesco and wilted roses but it was better than nothing.

I got him a Teddy Bear and fresh chocolates from the bakery.

It's funny because I got him the better gift, but he still dumped me the next day. Just my luck right?

Grumbling, I wrap a customer's pastry and then head out for my break. It's 1pm now, and I would normally eat lunch, but lately, I've gotten in the habit of skipping it.

The more I tried fasting, the longer I could go. Nowadays, I could go until about 5pm without eating. Maybe even longer.

I had a bag of celery sticks and carrots sitting in my freezer for after my shift. Eating things cold burns more calories.

As I head outside, I grab my packet of cigarettes. My hands are shaking and I'm not sure if it's from withdrawals or from not eating. Honestly, it could be either.

I've lost 22 pounds at this point - it's still not enough. I still don't have abs or my football body.

I'm trying so hard to push myself to go to the gym more, but I've been feeling weak and lightheaded most days. It just sucks.

Inhaling, I lean against the brick wall and slide down until I am sitting on the sidewalk, not worrying whether or not I dirty my pants.

I keep envisioning Harry behind the nail salon, shouting with the tall blonde woman, the mother of his child, the center of his poem.

I'm aching to know their story: who she is... what their history is.... why she doesn't want him to be involved in the child's life.

The nail salon owner's angry phone call snaps me out of my thoughts for a minute, and I jerk my head up quickly, looking around.

I have no idea why, but I start to feel dizzy all of a sudden. Everything is fuzzy. I try to stand up but I can't, and the next thing I know everything goes black.

"Are you okay?"

Amanda, my coworker, is standing over me.

"I... yeah, I'm good," I mutter, standing up.

She offers her hand for support and gives me an odd look wrinkling her brow.

"You don't look so good, Louis," she says. "You're quite pale. Do you want to go home early? I'll cover you... there's only an hour left anyways."

I shake my head, running a hand through my hair. It's wet.... am I sweating?

Suddenly my heart is racing and I begin to feel sharp, shooting pains in my stomach. "I'm good," I say quietly. "Just need water."

Amanda follows me into the back room, where I retrieve a water bottle. I'm starting to feel dizzy again, not to mention nauseous.

"Louis," she says, handing me a sandwich. "Have you had lunch? Eat this."

I stare at the sandwich, tears nearly well in my eyes. I can't do it. I just can't. If I eat that sandwich, I'll be ruining everything.

I'll be giving in - giving in to the fatness, to the laziness. To my old, disgusting body, the one Harry reviled and made fun of. Fuck, my body is still so disgusting, but at least it's less so...

My stomach growls, sending me nearly jumping. The pain I was feeling must have been hunger. Fuck my life.

"LOUIS!" Amanda shouts, handing me the sandwich. "What's wrong with you? Fucking eat."

I shake my head, covering my mouth with my hands. "No, I feel quite ill," I say. "Maybe I will go home. I think I may throw up."

It's a lie, but what else can I do? I can't eat that fucking sandwich. It had bread and cheese and meat - all the awful, disgusting things that make you fat... No. Absolutely not.

"Okay, well feel better," she says, shooting me a sad look. "Take this just in case you feel better."

She hands me the sandwich, and I thank her. But I throw it in the bin as soon as I get to the Tube. There's no way I'm eating that.

Feb 14

I have off from work today, thank god. After my fainting fiasco, I have been a bit worried about my health.

But it's not enough to stop me from working out and dieting. Those are things that I have to do. I just have to.

If I stop doing them, I will get fat and lose all my progress. I don't get why that's so hard for people to understand. It makes perfect sense.

It's about two in the afternoon when I hear a knock on my door. I'm writing a new article, this time about the Time's Up movement, which is making news this week.

I expect it to be a neighbor asking me to water the plants, or even Liam, who sometimes shows up unexpectedly on his way home from work to chat.

But it's neither of them.

When I open the door, I nearly jump backward in horror. Harry Styles is in my doorway, wearing a dark leather jacket, a purple collared shirt, and grey slacks.

"Um... hi?" I squeak, instantly feeling disgusting in my shorts and T-shirt.

"Hey," Harry says, giving me a half smile. "Sorry to startle you, lad. I should have texted. But Liam said it was fine, you're off today. He and Niall sent me here. I'm working on a new script, and they thought you could give some input."

"Okay," I say, still standing in the doorway. "Um, why didn't you just invite me to the office then?"

"Well," Harry says, walking past me and sauntering inside. "It's a bit crowded today at work, there are two trainings going on so all the conference rooms are booked. Figured this would be easier."

He walks over to my desk and puts his notebook down next to my laptop. Did he really just do that? Did he really just walk into my house and make himself at home?

No wonder this Eliza girl left him. Not only is he rude, but he's extremely overbearing. What's next, is he going to drink my coffee too?

Jesus fucking Christ.

"Hey, um, okay, I guess now that you just invited yourself inside, I have no choice but to work on it with you," I grumble, closing the door and walking over to my desk.

Harry is currently sitting in my chair, so I head to the kitchen and grab another one.

"What is so urgent that you need help with it now?" I ask, locking eyes with him. Harry bites his lip and opens his notebook.

"So the Pret campaign needs a bit more copywriting. I've been trying to master their voice, but it's not coming out the way I want," he says, frowning.

His long hair is swept back into a man bun and I almost laugh. This has to be a joke.

"Hmm, okay," I reply, opening my laptop. My mind is so cloudy that I've hardly heard what he said, but I don't really care enough to ask him to repeat it.

"Louis, are you well?" Harry asks, raising a brow at me.

"I'm fine," I reply quickly, forcing a smile. "I got sick at work yesterday, but feeling better."

Harry nods, toying with a gold bracelet on his wrist. It matches the gold chain on his chest, which he doesn't seem to have taken off since the last time I saw him.

"Well, you look proper pale," Harry says. "If now's not a good time...."

"It's a good time," I snap. He already invaded my home. We might as well finish the project.

"Okay, well, we created this new Gif of their new sandwich. The copy reads: 'Try our newest Springtime Sandwich, with spinach, feta, turkey breast and bacon,'" Harry says, showing me the photo that he has glued to his notebook.

That is so extra. Why doesn't he just use a fucking computer like the rest of the world? He's trying so hard to be a hipster.

"Okay, so what's wrong with that?" I ask, rolling my eyes.

"Well, it needs a bit more of a kick to it... and we also want to start posting our sandwiches with little profiles, sort of like a dating App," Harry says, flipping through the godforsaken notebook.

"Give me that," I say, grabbing it from him.

Harry looks up at me, startled, and only then do I realize how snappy I'm being. I can't help it though, I always have the jitters lately.

I flip through and read the profiles of the sandwiches. "Buena Vista Sandwich: Both Sweet and Savory, perfect for picnics, pair it with a delicious soda or freshly squeezed juice." "Fresco Sandwich: Tons of summertime fun, bring this bad boy to the beach, enjoy with chips."

I cringe. "Wow," I say, widening my eyes. "These are bad."

Harry shrugs. "I know, I mean that's how they asked for it though. Not my call, I just have to write it the way they want."

"Okay," I nod. He's right. In advertising, the client always gives you their preferences, and you just have to work with them. "Well, I think you shouldn't have it in list format. Do bullets instead to break it up, and just cut the adjectives, they're extra and annoying. If you want to make the sandwiches more personable and you can try the M&M approach, by making each one kinda like a human. So put like sunglasses on them or something."

I tear an empty page out of the notebook and begin to sketch something out. My drawing skills aren't the best, but if he wants to use this stupid notebook, they'll have to do.

I write out the following:

Buena Vista Sandwich

-sweet & savory

-picnic food

-pair with soda or juice

Fresco Sandwich:

-summertime snack

-bring to beach

-enjoy with chips

Then I doodle little sketches of the sandwiches, one on the beach with sunglasses and another on a picnic blanket holding a basket.

When I'm done, I show it to Harry, who stares it at like it's a masterpiece.

"That's so cute!" Harry says, throwing his hands up in the air. "Yes, I love it. Thank you!"

I shrug, rolling my eyes. "welcome," I reply.

"Awesome, awesome. I'll bring this back to the guys. You'll get paid for it too. Probably like 300 quid," he says, smiling.

300 quid. I could fucking use that kind of cash. Most of my articles only went for 50 quid, and I'm behind on rent, so this is a godsend.

"That's great," I say, smiling. "Well, glad I could help."

Our conversation is over, and he's gotten his help, so I expect him to leave, but he doesn't. He sits there, leafing through his notebook, and I peer over his shoulder.

Oh my god. I can't see everything, as he's moving quickly through it, but from what I can see, almost all of the beginning pages have the words 'Eliza' on them. Or sketches of her. Or hearts. Wow.

"Who's Eliza?" I blurt out, without even thinking.

Harry looks up at me, closing the notebook shut. "Oh, um, you met her, right? She's my ex."

His voice is low and glum. I sort of feel like an asshole because it's Valentine's Day and he's clearly OBSESSED with her and probably misses her.

But hey, Harry has tortured me countless times before this is payback. I also need to know who she is ASAP. I'm like dying. Seriously.

"Oh," I say, running a hand over my stubble. "Right. What's the deal with her, if you don't mind me asking?"

Harry shifts unsteadily in his seat. "I, um. Well. It's kind of complicated. She's a model, yeah? And, wow, this is personal.... and a little dark. But we dated for like two and a half years. I loved her. So, so much. But I got her pregnant - we didn't mean for it to happen. She's only 23, in the prime of her career. She just got asked to do the Victoria's Secret show in a few months... and neither of us are ready for kids..."

Holy shit. He's actually telling me. Okay. Okay. Calm down, Louis. You can handle the drama.

"So, basically, she told me the news and my immediate reaction was 'oh no. you should get an abortion.' Right? She would miss the Victoria's Secret show, she would miss Milan, she would be out of her career for at least a year - and she loves it. She loves it, and I just wanted her to be happy, but...."

"But she freaked?" I ask, looking into Harry's eyes. They're so deep and green, like the pool we had as a kid that went rotten in the winter time.

"She freaked," Harry nods. "She wanted to keep it. And that was about a month ago - she dumped me on the spot, told me to get the fuck out and never come back. We were living together, yeah? So I left. But I still loved her, I called her every day. I apologized. I told her I made a mistake, and if she wants to keep it we can keep it and raise it together. But she won't forgive me. Because I wanted to kill it.... and I keep trying to win her back, but every time I see her she just tells me to fuck off. It's... it sucks..."

Harry's eyes are filled with tears now, and he's leaning on the table with one elbow, staring down at his loafers. I almost feel bad for him. Almost.

"Wow," I say, patting his arm gently. That's what you do to comfort others, right? "That's so rough. I'm so sorry. I see both sides of it. But it was an initial reaction. It's not like you would have forced her into an abortion. Honestly, I would have suggested that option too.... had I been in your position."

Harry nods. "Yeah, that's what Liam and Ni said," he replies, wiping his cheeks. "I know I messed up but I apologized so much, I even bought baby clothes and a crib, and she threw them out. Louis. She actually dragged them to the dumpster and threw them out... I don't know why she hates me so much."

"That's rough, mate. I'm sorry," I say, nodding. Harry leans in towards me. Is he going to.... yup. He leans in and hugs me, sniffling on my shoulder.

Wow.

"I think she just needs time. She's definitely upset and emotional. I suppose she expected you to be happy when you found out," I explain. "But if you give her some time to heal, it could help. The more you bombard her, the angrier she seems to get."

I stroke Harry's back gently. It's broad and muscular beneath my fingers. I didn't know he worked out too?

"Louis," Harry says, pulling away and facing me. "Thanks for listening, honestly. I know I was so rude to you that first night we met. That was the night she had thrown out the crib, and you were my scapegoat."

"Why me?" I ask, raising an eyebrow. "Why not the other guys?"

"Well," Harry replies, blotting his cheeks with his sleeve. "I don't know. I just thought you were single and gay and a freelance writer. Nothing to worry about. You have the perfect life - you would never get a girl pregnant and fuck up like me...."

Did he just say... he was jealous.... of me?

"Harry," I say, glaring at him. "You really shouldn't judge a book by its cover. I'm quite miserable and lonely. I struggle with relationships too, though maybe not in the same ways. My writing isn't doing well, and... well, I'm on this diet and not feeling great... I just, you don't know me. There's no reason to be jealous."

"I know, I was wrong to judge," Harry says, grabbing my wrist. "I'm so sorry. It was stupid."

"It's okay," I reply, staring down at his grip on my wrist. Just why...

"And you said you're not well... why not get off the diet then?" Harry asks.

"Because I can't..." I begin, realizing how crazy I sound. "I can't get into it now. I just, it's something I have to do."

Harry stares at me, tracing my face with his eyes.

"You do seem ill," he says. "And if you're on that diet because of what I said, which I seriously hope you're not, please stop. Please do, you're not starving yourself, are you? Eliza would sometimes starve for her photoshoots, she looked pale like you..."

I rip my hand out of Harry's wrist harshly and stand up. "I'm not starving myself," I grumble. "I'm fine."

Harry nods, and grabs his notebook, standing up as well.

"Okay, well if you ever need anything, I'm here," he says quietly. "I owe you one. Well, two. One for the writing, and another for dumping this Eliza shit on you."

I raise an eyebrow. "Honestly, Harry," I say. "You don't owe me anything. I don't mind listening."

Oh my gosh. Was I being nice? Emotions are whirling in my head and I start to feel queasy.

"Alright, well, thanks again," Harry says, heading to the door. "Later, mate."

"Later."


	7. the club

Trigger warning: This whole story is centered on Louis' eating disorder, so if that's triggering you should be careful. So far, we have seen his mind shift quite significantly. At the start of the story he was definitely angsty and struggling with negative thoughts, but now he is falling deeper and deeper into his eating disorder. In this chapter, we really see his mind start to spiral and distort the reality around him. You may notice that he is quicker to anger and always in a bad mood. His behaivors - exercising compulsively, experiencing negative body image, eating low calorie foods or starving, and never feeling like he has lost enough weight - are all parts of the disorder. I wrote it this way so you can see into Louis' mind's eye, and understand how anorexia can destroy a person from the inside out. (Sorry a little dark). This is a hopeful story, and I hope that recovery will also happen down the road. But right now Louis is in complete denial he has a problem, even though all of his friends can tell. His health and physical state is deteriorating too - and a lot of the physical symptoms (hair loss, joint paint, fatigue, paleness, dizziness, etc.) are present as well.

 

Feb 18

I'm lying on my couch eating ice cubes when I get a text from Niall.

Niall: lad are you still coming to the gay club @10pm tonight? We're drinking beforehand at Harry's at 9pm. 33 Charlesfield Street.

What the fuck? It's 8:30pm now. I was going to do at least another workout before I headed out for the night. Now I don't have time.

For whatever reason, I thought we were going to be going out much later. Didn't Niall say 11pm? Harry must have changed the time.

Groaning, I stand up. My back hurts and I wince in pain a little. I guess I worked out too hard this morning.

I make my way to the bedroom and change into something suitable. I'm going to need a little bit of color if I want to stand out at the club- not that I want to. I look so disgusting.

After browsing through my closet and trying on about three different options, I decide that black skinny jeans and a sparkly, blue button down are as good as it's going to get. I put on my vans and head to the bathroom to wash my face.

I almost don't recognize the man staring back at me. My stubble is completely grown out- it's nearly a beard now. And there are dark purple circles beneath my eyes. My face looks so odd, wrinkly and withered almost. And of course, I'm so fucking pale. I have to go outside more.

Frowning at my bearded face, I take out my electric razor and start to shave it off. When I get to my side burns, I realize a bit of my hair looks patchy. What the fuck is that about? I push it to the side, covering the area where my hair is thinning and run more product through it to help volumize it.

Before I head out, I hop on the scale and weight myself. 140. I guess I should be happy I'm 25 pounds down, but I could still stand to lose more. My body is just not looking it's best....

My thoughts are interrupted though when I get a call from Niall.

"Mate, where are you?" he asks. "We're about to head out."

"Fuck, I'm um... I'm on the train," I say, shoving phone and keys into my pocket. "Can you wait for me, I'll be quick."

"Sure, but Harry is getting antsy," Niall says. "See you soon."

Harry is getting antsy? What the fuck do I care about Harry getting antsy? Harry can fucking chill out. Who gets to the club at 10pm anyways?

As I head down to the train station, I think about the night ahead of me. I'm going to have to drink, which means more calories. Beer is definitely not an option, and I'm actually in luck because Niall and Louis tend to get cocktails only at the club we're headed too.

After I get off a few train stops later, I walk up the stairs and open Google maps to put in Harry's address. Looking around, I can already tell this is a bougie part of town. I guess those poetry contests really do pay well.

It takes me a couple minutes to get to his brownstone apartment. I ring the doorbell, waiting for someone to buzz me in, and I also text Niall for backup.

A few seconds later, Harry answers the door. "Welcome, welcome, mate," Harry says, clearly several drinks in. He slaps me on the back and leads me upstairs to a huge open plan floor with retro furniture, paintings, and an intricate chandelier hanging above a grand piano.

Holy shit.

Maybe Harry should have encouraged his girlfriend to have the baby. There's enough god damn space after all.

"Hey mates," I say to Liam and Niall as Harry leads me around the corner into the island kitchen.

"Oy, thought you'd never make it," Liam laughs.

"Always fashionably late," Niall chimes in, pulling me in for a hug.

"Take a drink, take a drink," Harry says cheerily. He begins to pour me a glass that's 20% and 80% gin.

"Thanks," I say as I grab it from his hand. I immediately take a swig, hoping I can get on their level quickly.

Speaking of the guys, they are dressed to impress tonight, wearing tight, fashionable clothing that makes my outfit look like shit.

Liam, for example, is wearing dark washed skinny jeans with a red and white striped muscle tank top and a leather jacket with white high top sneakers. Niall is wearing a black button down with grey slacks and brown loafers, and Harry is dressed in black skinny jeans, Chelsea boots and a red and orange floral blouse with a low cut neckline.

Fuck me.

"You pumped, mate?" Liam asks, pouring himself another drink.

I start to chug mine, feeling the alcohol enter my bloodstream. Slowly, I start to feel less angry. My body feels all warm and tingly and the room gets just a little bit shakier.

This is what I need right now. I just need to relax.

"I'm pumped," I say, grabbing for more alcohol. "Always love me a gay bar. It'll be so fun."

"Yeah it will be!" Niall cheers, patting Liam on the back.

"Harry, how are you feeling?" Liam questions, raising an eyebrow in Harry's direction.

Harry is sipping on a drink, leaning against the counter and looking blankly at the floor tiles beneath him. "What?" he says, absentmindedly. "Yeah, yeah. I am excited."

"We'll show you the ropes," Niall says, smiling.

Haha, I think. Or maybe we can just stand back and watch him struggle.

**************************

(A few drinks later, Louis is now drunk and his thought processes will reflect that)

"How many drinks did we even have?" I ask Niall as we stumble down the steps of Harry's apartment and to the Uber.

"Mmmmfff," Niall snorts. "Don't even ask, mate."

"I feel," Liam says, widening his eyes. "So good!"

"Same," Harry giggles. He locks the door behind us and we head into the street. Where the fuck is that Uber? And who's even paying for Uber? Certainly not me.... no, no, no. Harry can pay.

Ha. Harry. Harry sucks. He sucks yet I don't hate him 100%. I hate him like 98%, yes. Yes. Almost one hundred, but not entirely because of that story. That Eliza story. Because now I know the real Harry... I know he's a softie and - oh. Oh sorry. We're getting in the Uber now.

"Scuseee me, Ni," I say, stepping over him as I climb into the car.

"Next stop, the Dark Dutchess," Liam says.

"Yesss," Harry nods. He's sitting next to me. Why is he sitting next to me? I wanted to sit next to Niall but now Harry is right here next to me and our legs are touching. Ugh. Get off me, bitch.

Time is going so slow now in this stupid slow Uber. It's taking forever. Like ages.

"Are we there yet?" I whine, trying to move away from Harry.

"Almost," says Liam. "We're either almost there or almost to Costa Rica."

"Costa Rica," Niall bursts out laughing. "Costa Rica is a real place. Did you know that?"

"No wayyyyyy," Harry giggles. I laugh too. I don't know why but Costa Rica sounds so funny to say. Costa Rica. Costa Rica. CoooooSta. RiiiiiCa. It almost rhymes. Harry should put that in a poem.

"Here!" Liam says a few minutes later, pointing up at the big sign with a picture of a ghost on it.

The Uber driver pulls over and Niall and Liam hop out. Harry begins to get out before me, but I block him. "Me first," I say, rolling my eyes. Doesn't he have manners?

When we get inside the club, I feel like I'm entering a different country. I've been here before, yeah? I have. I mean I know I have. But it looks so different. They have rainbow lights on tonight and I guess it was a costume day because everyone is wearing rainbow themed clothing. That's kinda hot.

"Guess we missed the costume memo," Niall says, shrugging.

"Guess we did," I reply with a frown.

"Harry's the closest to the rainbow theme," Liam says, pointing to his patterned shirt.

Harry starts, like, blushing and I laugh at him. He seems so awkward here. Not his scene I guess? He did say he had never ever been. Never ever. I wonder why.

We head out onto the dance floor, which is pretty packed. It's like 11:30pm now. Yeah, I made us super late. Super duper duper late. But hey, we're fashionably late and that's fashionable. We came at prime time. Everyone's here now. All the hotties and the baddies. And the Bad bitch daddies. Yes, hell yes. Louis is ready.

As we weave through the crowd to get closer to the DJ, I notice a few proper looking specimens. There's a tall brunette guy dancing alone. He's wearing a rainbow tank top and these sexy skinny jeans. He has a full beard and these big brown eyes. Hot.

I saunter over to him, dancing a little. Or at least I'm trying to dance. I'm so drunk I almost forget how fat I am. But then I remember, and I dance a little slower. Maybe if I have another drink this feeling will go away?

This feeling.... this feeling of..... emptiness? Sadness? Whatever it is. Whatever it has been since mum died, since too many boys dumped me. Since my writing began to go downhill. Whatever it was.... whatever it is.....

"Hey!"

A hand grabs onto my shoulder and I jump up, startled.

Oh, it's just Harry. "Where did Ni and Li go?" he asks. He's gripping on me tight, like ouch that hurts. Hands off.

"Too tight," I say, pushing his hand away from me. "Dunno, towards the DJ. I'm too short to see over the crowd, you look around, giraffe."

"Haha, very funny," Harry says. He stands on his tip toes and begins to search the crowd. "Found em!"

Harry tugs my arm again and I pinch him, but he doesn't let go. He just pulls me with him through the crowd until we're next to Niall and Liam. Squad reunited. But what if I didn't want to be with the squad, what if I wanted to get with a guy?

"Oh my god," I say, nearly screaming from laughter.

Niall is currently dancing with Liam, twerking on top of Liam's crotch and Liam is air slapping his ass.

"No fucking way," Harry laughs. "Gotta take a video of this."

Harry and I both pull out our phones to take a video because, duh, this is hilarious.

Eventually, they stop and walk over to us. "You saw nothing," Niall laughs.

"He's great, isn't he?" Liam says with a giggle.

"Amazing," I reply. "Amazing, Niall. Lovely. You're one of us. Fit right in. Are you ready to get with a bloke tonight?"

Niall bites his lip. "I think I'll pass," he says, shrugging. "Sadly, I still prefer vagina, but that won't stop me from dancing my way all over this dance square."

"did you just say dance square?" Harry snorts.

"He did," I laugh.

Harry and I giggle together - wait, are we bonding? Is this what friends do? Laugh together. No, no. Not friends. Not us. Certainly not me and despicable evil Harold. Never.

"So, Li," I say, patting his back. "What's the plan? Like are you looking for a bloke tonight? And Harry are you?"

Liam nods. "Yeah, I think at some point I'll look for like a nice blonde guy," he says, his brown eyes darkening a bit. Blonde. Blonde because Zayn is brunette. He wants change. A different guy. A different vibe.

He wants to forget.

"Okay, cool, cool," I say, nodding. "Harry, you?"

Harry puts his hands in his pockets and looks at me with those big green eyes. He's all scared looking. Like he just saw a ghost. What's wrong with him? This isn't Halloween.

"I, maybe, I'll pull tonight. If I find the right lad," he says shakily. "Not sure yet."

"Okay, well, I wanna pull tonight," I declare. "So me and Li will dance a little here with you all and then we'll split off to find a guy, and like you stay with Niall. Unless you want to pull too. And then... then, we will all meet at the back entrance. Dere."

"Okayyyyy Louis," Niall says. "Game plan set. Hut hut!"

Everyone laughs but Harry. Harry looks all pukey and nauseous. Maybe he had too much to drink. I didn't though. I'm good. I'm so good. I could have more.

"Circle up squad," Liam giggles, motioning for us to start dancing.

I stand between Liam and Niall. Wanted to avoid Harry this time, but now this just means I'm directly across from Harry, like making eye contact with him accidentally as I dance. I bet he thinks I'm stupid and fat. Not a real football player cause I don't have abs. Like he can fuck off cause I'll have them soon.

I hope.

We dance to the beat of the EDM music around us, and I look at the floor or at Niall or at the sexy dudes surrounding us. But I don't look at Harry. I don't.

He looks at me though. I can see him watching me, all creepy like. Like an up and down. Down and up. He's smiling kinda, but he's also looking focused. I wish he would stop. I wish he would just go away and stop being in our friend group. I was here first, and now all anyone cares about it stupid Harry. Harry this Harry that. Well I'm done.

"Hey, you know, I think I'm gonna look around now," I say after a while, grabbing Liam's wrist. "You ready, lad?"

"Yeah, mate," he says, nodding. "Be back in a bit."

"Cool, cool," Niall says. "I'll just twerk with Harold."

Harry blushes and shakes his head. "I think I'm good, Ni," he says. "I prefer the tango. But let's go grab drinks first."

I start to walk away, and out of the corner of my eye I see the weirdest thing. It's Harry. And he's checking out my ass.

A/N: It is about to get fucking wild y'all. This club scene is going to take a few chapters. And yes, it will all be in drunk Louis POV. How do you feel about drunk Louis? I love this writing style. It's so fun to write this way, kind of just unfiltered thoughts. The drunker he gets, the more insight we will get to his feelings because he will eventually start to admit things he would never admit while sober. Cheers ya'll. Let's see what happens with this crazy story.

ALSO NIALL TWERKING ON LIAM I DO NOT SHIP NIAM BUT THAT VISUAL DOE HAS ME DEAD STOP


	8. chaos

Feb 18 (continued)

I walk around the club for a little. It's been a while since I've danced with someone at the club, but I have a system. I like to start out with like a test guy. Not super sexy but also not bad looking. You know, in the middle?

I start with him to get my moves down and confidence going and then I move on to someone hotter. Usually I stick with him but if I'm really feeling it I might try for an even hotter guy. Who knows? It's all about vibes and where the night will take me.

Scanning the crowd, I spot my first test guy a couple feet away. He's like super tall and has brownish reddish hair. That's not bad, right?

But then, I know, I move closer and I realize he's a full ginger. Uh, oh well. I keep going and start to dance next to him, swaying my hips to the beat of the music.

He doesn't really respond at first, which is annoying. Am I doing something wrong? Am I not hot enough? I need another drink... ugh. More drinks.

But the next thing I know he's behind me, grabbing at my hips. "Wanna dance?" He asks.

His voice is all deep and boomy. I find that pretty hot and I nod. Yeah I wanna dance, that's why I'm here. We dance for a little. I keep swaying my hips and drop it low at one point.

Some Cardi B music comes on eventually and that's when I turn into a Niall and really use my butt as a weapon. I'm really grinding up on this guy. Like hello, sexy Louis. Really feeling myself. Feeling the music.

What's that Ariana Grande song? I don't know but it goes like, we Vibin, we vibin. And we vibin man.

I get so into it I almost forget he's my test dummy. It's been a while so I don't have super high standards it seems. Like in My head yeah yeah I want a hottie. But right now this dude is strong and warm and he's getting hard for me. Maybe I should stick with him for the night.

A few songs later, Im all up on him. He kind of was kissing my neck for a while and I liked that. But then I was like, hey let's kiss on the mouth. We do, and I can get a good look at him now. He has a cute face. He has like nice amber eyes and this semi beard going. Like stubble but not. I don't know but I like it.

His mouth is soft and he's a good kisser, which is awesome. No slobbery tongue in my mouth like a dog. No he's good. He's good, but his mouth tastes like beer. And I hate beer- beer makes you fat. I mean so does gin in excess.

I definitely had excess tonight. But it's okay, I'll just throw it up later. I'll throw it all up, like just get rid of it.

I can't focus on that now, because it's me and this guy. This guy whose name I don't even know but his hands are on my waist and mine are around his neck and we're making out and it feels amazing. It feels amazing and i want more.... like right now. Like i need to get laid right fucking now....

"Wanna go back to mine?" I ask in a low tone. Growly almost.

"Yeah, Sure," the guy says. I take his hand. It's big and strong. I'm not so big so it's harder for me to weave through the crowd.

We almost make it to the door when harry suddenly ambushes me.

He seriously does not understand the concept of personal space. Like at All.

"What the Fuck," I shout, as Harry grabs me by the shoulder.

"Dude, I've been calling and texting, you have to come quick," he says, panicked.

"What?" I ask. "Im going home with someone. Can you not kill my vibe?"

"I don't want to, but there's an emergency," Harry says, pulling me tighter. "Zayn is here - with another guy. He was never in Milan.... it was all a lie. Liam just confronted him and he's lost it."

"Oh my god." The words barely escape my mouth. That's like... the most savage thing I've ever heard. Not only did he cheat and lie about it but now he like lied about his entire job for months and then cheated again. Probably more than once. I would die.

"Hey, sorry man, i have an emergency," I say to my guy. He nods understandingly and sort of disappears back into the crowd.

He is probably thinking: okay, well I can just find another ass to fuck. Like Yeah, so Can I. But i only have one best friend - we actually two - but that's besides the point. I only have one Liam and I've gotta help him.

"Where is he?" I say to Harry, rushing in his direction. I'm suddenly starting to feel more sober. But not that sober. Just a little more energized.

"Ni is with him in the bathroom," Harry explains. He's all frantic and wide eyed, not looking happy. "He's really not doing well, just crying a ton."

"Oh wow, okay lets go," I say. Harry nods and we power walk to the bathroom.

As soon as I get inside, i Can hear Liam sobbing. There are random men peeing in the urinals watching it happen. But Liam doesn't even care, he's just leaned over the sink crying as Niall is patting his back.

His shoulders are going up and down and his face is all red and I haven't seen him this sad since the last time zayn cheated. Only then, it wasn't as bad as this.

"Hey, It's okay," I say, rushing over and patting his back too.

"He might —" Harry began.

"Get the fuck off me," Liam screams, pushing my hand away.

"Snap at you," Harry finishes.

Yikes. I mean I get he's upset but I'm trying to help.

I take a step back and my eye contact wirh Niall.

"Sorry mate, he only wants me around right now," Niall explains. "Doesn't want all the attention. But em, I called a cab. Gets here in 20. You lads can wait outside."

"Okay," I reply. "Text us if you need anything."

Harry and I head out together. I sort of follow behind him, because he's pretty tall and clears a pathway for me in the crowd.

"Where ya going?" I ask.

"To get another drink," he says. He doesn't turn around, just like mumbles forward thinking I'll hear him. I do but still. Rude.

"Okay, me too," I reply. I could use more alcohol. This zayn thing is getting me down.

Harry and I approach the bar.

"Tequila shot please," Harry says to the bartender.

"Make that two," I reply. "Two doubles."

Harry turns to me, his face blank. "So. Fun night?"

"Up until now yeah," I say with a shrug.

"Saw you dancing with that guy," Harry says. He is half smiling half frowning. Kind of like the joker.

"More than dance..." he adds.

"Yeah," I giggle. "That we did. It was fun."

The shots arrive and we instantly grab our glasses and gulp them down. No cheers or anything. We just need to get drunker.

"You dance with anyone?" I ask. I'm dying to know. Is he really even bi?

"I, um, no," Harry says. "I was gonna, got nervous."

"Why?" I ask.

He turns to the bartender. "Another shot please."

"Why though?" I repeat. Answer me HAROLD. What is he doing.

"I don't know," he says. "There's kind of someone I wanted to dance with but he was taken, ya know?"

I nod. "Yeah I know. I hate that, especially when the guy is super hot and everyone wants a piece of him."

Harry's shot arrives and he downs it.

"I just... it's just," he says. He's all stammery now, like he doesn't know what he's saying. Is he really that drunk?

"Just what?" I ask, jutting out my bottom lip.

"Would you wanna dance with me. For fun?" He blurts.

Oh my god.

"There's no way in hell," I reply, chuckling. He is crazy. Absolutely crazy.

"Please," Harry says. He comes towards me, and grabs my arm. "Just for one minute. Just for fun. Niall and Liam did it."

"That's different," I say.

"Why?" He asks, putting his hands on his hips all dramatic like.

"Because Niall is straight so it's just a joke," I say. "You and I are both into guys, there's a chance of attraction."

"Are you afraid you'll get attracted to me," Harry says, taking a step closer.

I look at up him. "No, absolutely not."

He must be crazy. Why would I ever dance with him? Or ever become attracted to him? He's so horrible and evil and rude. Plus he thinks I'm a disgusting pig. Even said it himself.

"Well, then there's nothing to worry about," Harry says. He puts a hand around my waist.

I repeat. Hand around waist. I stand there, frozen, waiting for him to take it off.

"Um, no," I say, slinking out of his touch. "There are 100 other guys. Go with one."

"But I only wanna dance with you," Harry says.

"Why?" I ask.

"I... I just do," he replies, blinking. "I just wanted to know what it was like... like, I thought we connected when I came over the other day.... and I shared about Eliza and I just felt a bond, like..."

WHAT IS HE SAYING?

"I thought I kinda felt some chemistry from our hug. And we're both writers, and kinda just work," he says. "Wow, I feel dumb.... sorry..."

I stare at him. He's getting all flustered and his big green eyes are batting and I'm sort of just thinking about how good he looks in that low cut blouse with those long legs and that long hair and how I always thought he was attractive from the moment I met him and I just don't know what to say.

He likes me? He likes me, like as more than friend?

That can't make sense. Why did he call me fat then? Why was he so rude and awful and selfish?

Why....

"Don't feel dumb..." I say, taking an inch closer.

Harry looks down at me, nodding slowly. Without saying anything he grips my waist a second time and this time I don't push him off.

"Sorry I'm fat," I say, blushing. I try to suck it in but I know it doesn't help.

"Not fat," Harry says in a low tone. "You never were fat. Never."

I wish I could believe Him.

He pulls me closer, into a hug. We're sort of swaying now. I have no idea what's going on - I hate him. I'm supposed to hate him, right? But suddenly I'm so fucking turned on, I'm so fucking ready for this harry Styles Guy. And I forget that he's an asshole, and I forget he has a baby mama and emotional drama and I forget about Liam and Zayn.

And I just melt into the hug. I breathe in his cologne, I let him run his hands up and down my back. He starts to turn a bit, so my back is to him, and I sway to the music, Shape of You by Ed Sheeran.

I close my eyes and start to move my hips. Harry does the same.

"Faster," I tell him. He's falling behind the beat and can't keep up.

Harry goes faster, moving his hips in a circular motion. I nod and smile, Quickening my pace as well. I feel so full of energy right now. Exhilarated.

The song eventually ends and Harry and I turn to each other.

"How was it?" I ask, peering up at him. His hand is gripping my waist still and he smiles.

"Good," he says, chewing on his lip. "Honestly I think --"

But he doesn't get to finish his sentence. Because Niall is currently rushing towards us with Liam, whose hand is gushing blood all over nearby club goers.

Fuck.


	9. hospital

Feb 18 (cont)

"Fuck, is he okay?" Harry asks, rushing over to Liam.

"I think so," Niall replies. "He punched the wall - I haven't see his hand. Let's just get him outside."

I don't even say anything. I'm kind of just like wow, thank god I had those extra drinks with Harold. Gonna need it.

Once we make it out the exit, Niall sits Liam down against the wall. We all surround him looking at him like he just gave birth. 

"Are you good?" I ask, looking into his eyes. He honestly seems fine to me. Not hurt, just sad. But he doesn't answer. His eyes are all teary like and he looks down at his shoes, ignoring me.

"Liam, just tell us. How bad is the hand?" Harry asks, kneeling down next to him.

Liam looks at Harry and actually answers this time without hesitation. Wow. Guess he likes Harold better than me.

"Nowhere near as bad," Liam growls, "as the pain in my heart."

"Okay," Niall says, taking a deep breath. "I booked an Uber. I didn't put in a location. Are we going home or to the hospital?"

Harry peers down at Liam's hand. "Hospital mate," he says, his eyes widening. "One of his fingers is like backwards... holy fuck!"

"What the fuck?" I ask. I bend down and try to get a closer look at his hand, which is congealed with blood and yup - finger completely hanging off.

I instantly turn and start to vomit on the sidewalk.

Honestly, I guess I should feel gross or embarrassed about it but I'm kind of happy. I got rid of the calories without even doing anything on purpose. And to me, that's a win. That means I'm one step closer to my goal, and one step further from fatness.

Wiping my lips, I hold back a smile. Feeling invigorated, pure.

"Oh god, Lou," Harry groans, wrinkling his nose and shooting me a grossed out look.

Rude.

"Sorry," I say with an eye roll. "Weak stomach."

"Fuck, okay, don't panic," Niall says. 

But of course we panic. I can see his face turning pale and I'm sure mine is too. I feel bad for Li, but damn this is just too gross.

"Should we just call an ambulance then?" I ask. "If it's that bad?"

"No," Liam says, jumping up. "No, don't wanna Pay for that. We will just Uber."

"Aight," Niall replies. "Should be here in a minute."

Eventually a car pulls up, though it feels like eternities later. It's like silver or whatever, and we all hop in. Liam sits in the middle and we cover his hand with one of our jackets because if the driver sees that backwards finger shit he will probably throw up too. Or maybe even kick us out of the car.

"Here, perfect!" Niall says, hopping out of the car as we reach the hospital parking area.

I grab Liam's arm and help him out of the other side of the car. He's starting to look all pale now and wincing kind of. Poor lad.

The hospital is sort of a blur. At this point it's like 2am and I'm super drunk, sleepy and just puked. I don't really have my wits about me, and honestly, I don't give a damn.

After we get inside, we check liam in and sit in the waiting room. The hospital staff gets to him pretty quick - probably because if they don't, he will need to amputate his finger or some shit. Yikes.

Once Liam is gone, we all sort of just sit there in the waiting room, not talking. Niall falls asleep at some point and so does Harry. I try to sleep too but how can I? So much is going on.... I'm drowning in my thoughts.

Like first off how did Liam's hand get like that? He punched a wall Yeah, but how the fuck did it bend.... ugh. Disgusting. And why did that even happen? Oh yeah, because zayn. Zayn is a cheater. I mean yeah we knew that before. Once a cheater always a cheater. That's why I'm single. Can't trust nobody. I'd rather just hookup.... i was gonna too. With that ginger guy. But then Harry interrupted.... harry. Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

How can I forget? Harry was Flirting with me. He was like.... getting emotional. And we danced. I danced with him, I let that happen. Willingly. But why?

It's not like I like Harry. I don't. I don't at all. I despise him. But I guess in the moment I just - he's cute. Okay, he's hot. And maybe he isn't all bad? I mean... that Eliza story did sell me. But what if it was all rubbish? Or what if he just said all that shit and danced with me because he was drunk? Or what if he's not even out of the closet and just wanted to experiment with me?

Ughhh.

Too much to think about.

I look over at Harry, whose eyes are closed. I've never seen him sleep before. I mean why would I? But he looks so innocent and peaceful. At least he would have if I didn't know how evil he was under the surface.

Evil Harry. Evil....

"Anyone here for Liam Payne?" a nurse calls.

"Mmm," I say, nearly toppling over. "We are!"

I shake Niall, who jerks forward and blinks his eyes. "What?" he groans.

"Liam is ready," I say, heading towards the nurse.

Niall nods and taps Harry awake. Harry's green eyes fly open and he looks around in terror, nearly hitting himself on the nearby table.

"What happened?" he says, his voice cracking.

"Liam is in hospital," I say, rolling my eyes. How could he forget?

"Right," Harry says. He stands up, nearly stumbling, and then pauses for a minute, staring at me.

"Let's go!" I say, pointing to the nurse who is waiting impatiently.

"R-right," Harry says. He jogs over to Niall and I and we head down the white corridor and to Liam's hospital room.

"He's okay," the nurse says to us. "We did surgery on his finger, so he's a bit out of it. Still on painkillers. But it should be fine. He can go home soon."

"Great," Niall says. We head over to Liam's bed, where he is currently lying with his eyes half closed.

"Hey, Li," i say quietly.

"You're All clowns," Liam says with a giggle. His eyes are all squinty and he's smiling. Poor lad- he doesn't know how sad he'll be in the morning when he remembers Zayn.

"Haha, we are!" Niall says, making a goofy face. "Glad you're okay, lad. We can take you home soon."

"Don't wanna go home," Liam says. "I'm Batman. I can fly anywhere I want."

Harry snorts. "Well, we can ride in the batmobile."

Holy hell. This night just keeps getting weirder....

"Don't wanna," Liam replies, wrinkling his nose. "Wanna have sex."

We all stare at each other, fidgeting uneasily. What do we say to that?

"Funny," Niall says, clearly faking a laugh.

"Yeah, like, there was a hot male nurse," Liam explains. "And like i would tap that."

"Maybe later," I say with a smile. Jesus Christ. Drugged up liam has no chill.

"Okay, ready for discharge?" The nurse asks. We nod and she fills out some paper work and undoes Liam's IV.

"Let's go, Li," Niall says. He grabs him by one arm and I grab him by the other. Harry grabs his bag of clothes, and calls an Uber. Then we all head outside together.

"You guys are so nice," Liam says, once we are inside the car.

"Welcome," i chirp. I mean, I'm glad he appreciates me. I was starting to think he didn't.

"I mean, especially Harry," Liam says. "Especially given how hard it is for him to be in the friend group since he has feelings for—"

Harry turns around from the passenger seat, eyes wide with terror. "For Eliza..." Harry snaps. "Feelings for Eliza. Yeah, it's hard to be in long term friendships ever since my breakup..."

I'm not totally on top of things today but even I know he just completely switched around whatever Liam was going to say. He had feelings for someone in the group? That can't be possible? Can it?

"Breakup?" Liam says, repeating the word after Harry. "Oh my god. Fuck. Zayn...."

"Come the fuck on Harry!" Niall snaps. "Did you really have to use that word?"

Harry grimaces and shakes his head, curls bouncing. "No, I'm so sorry. That was so stupid," he says, biting his lip. "Sorry."

Liam sighs. "It's okay, Z was shit. He sucks."

"Yes he does!" I reassure him, patting his back. "He was shit and you didn't deserve any of it. You can do ten times better."i

"Just in time, Uber," Harry says, pointing to the car. I swear to god if I have to get into another Uber tonight I'm going to personally crash it.

Harry lives near the hospital so the ride is short. The rest of us live another 30-40 minute Tube ride away, so we decide to just all sleep at Harry's house, as it's already 3:30am and we're more than shot. 

Plus, he has more than enough room in that brownstone. Lives in a fucking palace.

Harry offers Liam his bed, a huge king sized bed with a mahogany headboard and black satin blankets. Niall claims the guest bed, which means Harry and I end up on the couches in the living room.

"Gonna sleep in my underwear, if that's okay," I say to Harry. "Can't sleep in jeans."

"Yeah - I can get you pajamas or -" he begins. 

"Honestly, too tired," I tell him, shaking my head as I remove my pants from beneath the blankets of my couch. The blankets are overly warm, but my legs are disgustingly fat and I can't risk Harry sneaking a peak.

"Okay, night Lou," Harry says. He shuts out the light and jogs over to his couch. Of course he's wearing a baby blue satin pajama set.

I close my eyes, expecting sleep to greet me. But all I can focus on is the sound of Harry's breathing just a few feet away. 

My heart is pounding and my palms are sweating. I hate myself so much right now. Because now I know the truth about myself an it's not pretty. I like Harry Styles, my mortal enemy, the mother of someone else's child, the reason for my body insecurities. 

And in a sick twisted way, I guess I deserve it. I've been angry and bitter for way too long. Maybe it's time for someone to fuck me up again - or maybe it's my turn to fuck them up.

A few minutes later, Harry gets out of bed and heads to the kitchen. Maybe he's getting a glass of water or maybe he's going to the bathroom. 

I don't care what he's doing. I quietly get up and follow behind him, not even caring that my stupid fat legs are all exposed. 

He will never know what's coming to him. 

Or will he?


	10. the fight

Feb 19 (early in the AM)

*Reminder: Louis is still super drunk and so is Harry

"Ahhhhhhh!" Harry screeches.

The light suddenly turns on and he is rushing over to me, asking if I'm okay.

"Obviously not," I scoff. "You just threw me onto the ground."

I really am okay. Or at least I'm okay for now with the alcohol impeding my sense. But I'll definitely feel this bruise in the morning.

"S-sorry," Harry stammers, offering me a hand. "I mean, I just went to get water and I randomly got tackled. It was my first instinct!"

Tackled. Right. I tackled him.... why did I do that again?

Oh yeah. Because I hate him. But also because I thought he was hot. And also because he's confusing my mind and emotions...

"Sorry," I mumble. "Thought you were Niall. We joke sometimes." Lies. He'll believe them though.

"Right," Harry says, rubbing the back of his neck. His curls are kinda greasy now, and he looks sort of run down even in his dapper pajama set. Still looks cute though.

"You good?" I ask, walking over to the sink to grab myself a glass of water. So rude - the least he could do is offer me a drink too! Cute guys are always the worst hosts...

"Yeah," Harry replies. "Are you?"

"I'm gooder than good, Harold," I say, rolling my eyes. I begin to chug some water and suddenly realize maybe it wasn't the best idea. My stomach is feeling queasy again - maybe it never really recovered from my vomiting episode earlier...

"Okay, well, let's get back to bed, yeah?" Harry says, motioning towards the living room.

I lean back on the counter, shaking my head. "Nah," I reply as I cross my arms over my chest. "Kinda wanna chat first."

Harry's eyes quickly scan my body, first up then down. I had forgotten I was in my boxers with my legs all out, but now I'm reminded. Fuck.

"Oh, sorry," I say, biting my lip. "Ignore my legs, I know I'm fat. But there's no need to stare."

Harry shakes his head, and rushes next to me. "No," he says, his eyes widening. "That's not why I'm staring - it's just... you look proper skeletal, Louis. How much weight did you lose?"

Skeletal? Is that some kind of sick joke. First he calls me fat, and then just to rub it in my face he's telling me I'm skinny now, when I'm clearly not. Just to fuck with me. How fucking rude....

"You're funny," I reply, looking up at the ceiling.

"No, Louis," Harry says, coming over to stand next to me. He lifts up one his pajama pant legs, and I take a step back. I mean I think he's hot but I'm not sure I want to get down and dirty just yet...

"Like, if you don't believe me, look at my leg and then look at yours," he says, putting our legs side by side.

He's right - my leg is thinner than his. Which is crazy because Harry has really long, lean legs and is much taller than me... and I'm so gross and stocky and fat. Maybe it's just the alcohol playing tricks on my mind...

"Yours is so much thinner, yeah?" Harry says, raising an eyebrow.

"I don't think so," I snap, pulling my leg away. "Probably just too drunk to see straight."

"No... Louis... I don't think --" Harry begins.

"You don't think what, Harold?" I reply. Suddenly I'm so angry and I feel tears forming. Why am I like this right now? "You certainly were thinking something on that dance floor tonight before Liam... Liam and his hand or whatever. We got interrupted..."

Harry stares at me, his cheeks flushing pink. "Oh, um," he begins. "Yeah..."

"Tell me, bitch," I demand. I walk over to him and make eye contact. His eyes are all green and dancing. They remind me of lilly pads. The same ones from France.

"Okay," Harry replies, swallowing. I can see his Adam's Apple move and I wonder if he's good at giving head. Wait... am I...? Fuck, I'm getting turned on.

Jesus.

"I was saying how I thought we connected when we worked on that ad together. And when I talked to you about Eliza, well, you listened to me in a way that no one else really has before... I just, I don't know," Harry begins.

As he speaks, he looks down at his bare feet, which look large and pale against the dark wood floors.

"Okay," I say calmly. I'm trying to control my temper but it's hard as fuck. "Well, yes we connected I suppose, as friends perhaps. Are you thinking in a romantic way?"

Harry gazes up at me, chewing on his bottom lip. "Kinda...."

"But you love Eliza... you told me that... so that doesn't make sense," I say, shaking my head. "Plus you called me fat and gross.... so why would you ever think about me romantically...?"

Harry shakes his head, curls bouncing. "No, no. I said I LOVED her. I don't know if I do anymore... our relationship, it's too much. And I think I like guys more... I think I like you... I was just too afraid, to ever really come out..."

I go to interrupt Harry, but he continues talking over me. That bitch. I have half a mind to cover his mouth with my hand.

"And... I never, ever meant to call you fat. I was teasing you, yeah. I was a real dick, a real bully. I know. I'm sorry and I told you I'm sorry and I told you why I did it - because I was jealous. Not just that you're a hot, single writer but that you're... you're out. And you can be with whoever you want, and when I met you, I found you so attractive. And I thought 'well I can never have this guy, so I might as well self sabotage.' You know, ruin our friendship before it even starts....it's so fucked up... I'm so fucked up, I'm sorry."

Oh. My. God.

I stare at Harold, unsure if I would rather punch him, scream or vomit. Honestly, all three would be great. Instead, I lean over the sink, gripping it tightly until my knuckles are white. I don't say anything. I don't answer - I don't even look at him.

He's not worth it.

"Are you okay?" Harry asks after about a minute. He walks over and puts a hand on my arm, which I immediately slap away.

"Don't," I breathe, "touch me."

Harry puts his hands in the air and takes a step back, perhaps waiting for me to do something. Oh, I'm going to do something alright....

Taking a deep breath, I release my grip from the counter and turn to Harry.

"Okay, listen the fuck up," I snap, suddenly feeling sober as a mother fucker. "If you're having sexuality problems, that sucks and I'm sorry, but that is no reason to fucking mistreat someone and make fun of their weight. You have no idea.... literally no idea.... what your comment has done to me...."

"I mean, I noticed you seem ill and have been losing weight. I'm so sorry... if there's anything I can do to -- " Harry interrupts.

"No," I reply coldly. "There is absolutely nothing you can do to help or make it up to me. Okay, Liam and Niall hardly know half the things I do, and I'm not going to tell you either. But let's just say it's gotten to the point where I can't eat a single meal without a panic attack. I'm working out three hours a day, minimum. It's awful, and I'm falling apart. No energy, tons of injuries. But I can't stop... I can't stop Harry... and you know why?"

He shakes his head and I resist the urge to slap him in the face.

"Because every time I do - every time I go to skip a workout or to actually eat a meal or to actually have some bloody fucking beer, I hear your voice replaying in my head. 'You've put on major weight since that photo.' 'You should stick with gin and tonic.' And whatever the fuck else you said..."

I pause to wipe tears that are now forming in my eyes, because fuck, I'm so upset. I never even realized how bad things were until now... how far gone I was...

"And it makes me feel fucking disgusting. No matter what the number on the scale says. I don't even care anymore - I just want to lose more, because now I'm paranoid that I'll get that big again. That I'll be made fun of again. And nothing you can say, Harry, is going to change that. You made the comment and it's stuck with me. You did this... you."

Harry is crying now. Straight up sobbing. There's nowhere to go, unless he wants to leave the room, so he just covers his face and sobs into his hands.

"I should be the one crying, Harold," I scoff, rolling my eyes. What a drama queen.

He shakes his head, wiping his cheeks with the sleeve of his pajamas. "I am so fucking sorry.... I am so, so.. If I could go back in time... oh my god...."

"You can't," I say, glaring at him. I don't even care that he's crying. Good. He deserves it.

"Eliza was anorexic... it's so bad. You have to get help, Louis, please," Harry whimpers.

Wow. Just wow.

"First off, this fucking Eliza chick is someone you're still clearly obsessed with, so everything you just said before was a lie," I tut. "Second off, I'm not anorexic. I'm nowhere near thin. And third off, even if I was, why should I get help? SO you can feel less guilty?"

"No... no," Harry replies, shaking his head. "So you can get better. I don't even care about my guilt. I'll be guilty forever... knowing how much pain I caused you..."

I close my eyes, shaking my head. Suddenly, all this yelling has me feeling dizzy. It doesn't help that I threw up not too long ago.

"Louis?" Harry says, rushing over to me.

I stumble on to him, falling a bit and seeing stars, but not fully passing out.

"It's okay," I say, blinking. "I'm okay." I push myself out of Harry's arms and pace away from him, disgusted that he touched me.

"You're not okay," Harry yells. "You just fucking fainted. Louis!"

He rummages through the cupboard and pulls out some sort of plant based vegan granola bar with all kinds of minerals and proteins advertised on the wrapper.

"Just eat this, please. Come on," Harry says, shoving it in my face. "It's super healthy."

Oh fuck no. He did not. He really did not just do that...

Growling, I rip the granola bar from his hands and throw it across the room.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" I scream. "Do you really think I'm just going to fucking eat that.... in front of the person who called me fat... you fucking sick fuck.... Jesus fucking Christ...."

I lunge towards him. Screw controlling my anger. I gave him multiple chances, and he's just asking for it now. He's fucking asking for it.

Niall is rushing into the kitchen now - the noise must have woken him up - and he enters just in time to see me pile driving Harry onto the floor.

"What the fuck!" Niall shouts, running over to Harry. "Get off him!"

I'm on top of Harry now, punching him in the stomach. Fuck him. Fucking fuck him.

Eventually, Niall rips me off of Harry and separates the two of us. My hand is bleeding, as I accidentally missed and punched the floor a few times. But I hardly feel it - I'm too worked up right now. Fight or flight. Harry looks pale and out of breath, and stands behind Niall clutching his stomach.

"I deserved that," he says, hoarsely.

"You did," I growl.

Niall looks over at Harry and then at me, his eyes wide with worry. "I'm not even gonna ask. Let's just get to bed mates. We don't want another hospital trip," he says, shaking his head. "Lou, take the guest room. I'll take the couch next to Harry."

"No need to switch," I mutter. "I'm going home."

"It's 5am, you'll get mugged!" Niall says, his voice rising an octave.

"Good," I reply.

And with that, I rush out of the kitchen, tugging on my pants and grabbing my coat. Harry and Niall stand there in the living room, watching me go. They look like they want to say something, but neither of them try to stop me.

I didn't expect them to.


	11. problems

Feb 19 (cont)

I wake up around 2pm with a throbbing headache and a burning sensation in my stomach. Groaning, I lift my head up from my pillow and realize I missed my shift at Costa.

You're not allowed to just skip work like that, no matter how long you've been working there. I'm probably going to get fired, but honestly I don't even care.

I don't care about anything. Any of it. What happened at the club or what Harry said to me. I feel sick just thinking about last night - thinking about the fact that I might be attracted to such a vicious, hateful human.

I beat him up last night and I have no remorse. I would do it again.

The one thing I am worried about though is Liam. I hope he's okay after his surgery. I'll probably never see him again, because of course they're going to choose Harry over me when they find out what happened in that fight. Harry himself said he deserved it and he did, but Liam and Niall are probably done with my shit anyways. They've been putting Harry before me for a while, and this was probably the final excuse to get rid of me.

Whatever.

Whether they kick me out of the group or not, the least I can do is check up on Liam. I send him a quick text asking if he's okay and then head to fridge for ice water.

I have to do a workout but I feel sick to my stomach and the thought of getting on the treadmill makes me want to lean over the trash can and upchuck into it. Instead, I settle for leg lifts on the floor of my bedroom. They don't burn as many calories, but it's better than nothing.

I play some music while I do them, which is eventually interrupted when I get a text message. It's from Niall.

"Hey, lad. Harry told me what happened last night and I think that's really messed up. I'm sorry he hurt you so badly, and I hope you're okay. Can we grab coffee to chat just you and me?"

I roll my eyes. Niall is appearing to take my side in this, but in reality he could be conspiring with Harry. I have no idea who trust anymore, but it's certainly not that curly headed toad who told me I was worthless lard. Wiping sweat off my brow, I respond to the message.

Me: "I guess. How's Li?"

Niall: "He's fine. A bit hungover and finger hurts but he has pain meds. Really upset with Zayn though. Poor lad. He's gonna go see his therapist on Monday."

Niall: "Speaking of, Maybe you could try out a session with her too. She's really a nice and I think it would help."

Oh my god. I don't even have the energy to come up with a witty comeback to his asinine idea so I just ignore that second text.

"Glad to know he's okay," I Type. "Let's meet @5pm in the West End Cafe."

I put my phone down and finish my leg lefts. I was half way done, but I start over at 1 to punish myself for taking a break. I can't be that lazy.

Eventually, 4:30pm rolls around and I tug on a pair of jeans and a jumper and head outside. I don't live too far from the cafe, so I'm a bit early. My head still hurts even though I took aspirin, and my stomach is still burning. I look at the menu and decide upon the green tea. No milk, of course.

"Hey," Niall says a few minutes later as he heads inside. I get up from my table and head over to him, unsmiling. I don't even know why I decided to meet him here.

Well maybe I do...

"Hey," I reply, nodding at him. Niall puts down his coat next to my chair and then heads to the cash register to get a coffee.

I sit and wait for him, my head swirling with thoughts of the articles I have to write and the awful things that happened last night and the gross flavor of my tea.

"So I heard what happened," Niall said, taking a seat across from me. He placed his cup and saucer on the table between us and looked up at me, his blue eyes puffy and bloodshot.

"Didn't sleep?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No," he said with a shrug. "Harry kept me up, he was really emotional last night."

I clench my fist at the sound of his name. Niall raises and eyebrow and I release it, forcing a smile. But we both know the truth.

"He messed up. He knows what he did," Niall began. "There's no excuse. And you're clearly hurting, Louis. I know you don't want to talk about Harry, so let's talk about that."

I stare at Niall, shaking my head. Suddenly, I want to tackle him too.

"I don't want to talk about it," I say calmly.

"Why?" Niall asks, giving me a questioning look.

I shrug. He needs to stop... he really just needs to stop...

"Louis, we noticed how ill you've gotten," Niall continues. "We're all really scared. You're starving yourself."

"I'm not," I say. "Why would I?"

"How else did you lose 20 lbs in a month in a half, Louis? You're always at the gym, you hardly eat more than some lettuce leaves when we see you...." Niall begin to list off.

"I eat at home," I say, rolling my eyes.

"You don't louis, though," Niall says, tears filling his eyes. "You're always on the verge of passing out."

"I am not—" I begin.

"You're trembling right now," he cries out, pointing to my shaking hands. "Harry is right, you have a disorder."

Honestly, i feel like crying right now. I'm so upset I can't even think straight, and all I want to do is storm out but I can't. I mean I could, but it would just be a repeat of last night. And then I would really lose Niall and Liam for good.

I take a deep breath. "I appreciate your concern. I know the diet is going too far and I'm gonna start to eat more."

Lies, pure lies. But it's what he wants to hear. What'll get him off my back.

Niall's mouth grapes open and he looks at me with wide eyes. "Not what i was expecting you to say," he replies. "But awesome. Okay. Well would you still wanna see Liam's therapist? For support?"

I shake my head. "No that's okay. I think I'll be good on my own. It's just food, right?"

Niall giggles, nodding along with me.

But it's not just food. It's far from it.

"Okay, so Why dont we get dinner," Niall says, finishing up his coffee. "Fish And chips. Im starved!"

Anxiety bubbles in my chest and I resist the urge to run out of the coffee shop. Inside my head, my thoughts are screaming: "no, no, no. Absolutely not. Fish and chips is what made you fat."

But I have no choice but to go with Niall. No choice but to get him off my back.

I chug the rest of my disgusting tea and follow Niall at the door, feigning a smile and making nonchalant small talk the entire time.

"Writing going well, yeah?" Niall asked, swinging the door open to the fish joint.

I can smell the disgusting salty, fatty fried fish frying and instantly want to vomit. But I can't. I have to do this.

"Yeah, going well. I actually wanted to ask if there were any more gigs at your company," I said. "I quite liked that project I helped Harry with."

"Oh," Niall replies, his face light up. "Yeah we Can get you on an account part time for freelance. Sir, two fish and chips."

The employee nods and Niall and I take a seat at a booth nearby.

"That would be awesome," I say, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in my chest as I watch the cook prepare the food behind the counter.

"Yeah, do you have a preference?" Niall asks, pouting a glass of water.

"Um, no, no. Whatever. Lifestyle could be good," I babble, picking at my cuticles.

You better not eat those fish and chips, the voice in my head tells me. They're just going to make you disgusting.

"Lifestyle. Okay. Well we do have a sunglasses brand," Niall says, wrinkling his nose as he wracks through options.

I nod. "That sounds good."

It's getting harder and harder to control my anxiety. I feel ready to explode just thinking about the fish.

"Awesome. I'll talk to Li," Niall says, smiling. "Ugh. So hungry. Can't wait for this."

I smile weakly, hoping he doesn't notice how incredibly pale I am. "Me too."

Finally, the moment I have been dreading arrives, and the waiter placed the baskets on our table.

I stare at the fish, turning it over with my hands. Niall digs into his immediately, using the dipping sauce in excess.

How is he so fit and thin? I wonder to myself. If I have one bite of this I will gain so much....

"You not eating?" Niall asks. He looks up from his meal, face covered in sauce and grease, and frowns at me.

"No, um, I am," i reply. I begin to rip the golden brown coating off the fish and eat the plain fish flesh.

Instantly, I begin to gag. The texture feels chunky on my tongue and the voice in my head screams in horror about the fat content. Without thinking, I spit it out immediately, causing Niall to jump backward in a panic.

"What's wrong?" He shouts. "Your fish is bad?"

I nod, weakly, pushing the basket away. "Yeah."

"Okay, that sucks. Waiter, can we get another one!" Niall calls, waiving the waiter back over. "This one is bad."

I make eye contact with the waiter and shake my head. "No, no it's not bad," I explain. "Misunderstanding."

Niall squints his eyes at me. "What was that about?"

I bite my lip and turn away from him, the tears welling in my eyes. "I can't," I choke. "I can't eat... haven't eaten in days aside from a few crackers and pieces of fruit... I can't... it's an addiction. Can't stop."

Niall gets up from where he's sitting and moves into the booth next to me, wrapping me in a hug. It's been so long since I let someone hold me that I forgot what it was like...

"Hey," Niall says. "Hey, It's okay. You're okay."

I shake my head. "you're right," I sniffle. "I'm fucked up. Can't even eat."

Niall nods. "We're all a little messed up, Lou. You'll get through it. Just need help is all."

"I don't want help," I reply, grabbing for a tissue.

Niall releases me and strokes my back to help calm me down. "I know... but. You have to get better, yeah? You have to gain some weight back..."

"No!" I say. It comes out much louder than intended.

"Why Not? Louis, you're too thin now," he says, his eyes watering.

"I was too fat then, too thin now," I reply, rolling my eyes. "Never good enough."

"Louis," Niall breathes, clearly frustrated. "No one ever called you fat. Harry said you gained weight and that was rude. It was wrong. But no one ever called you fat because you were never ever overweight."

"It was implied," I growl.

"Louis, implied or not, you took it too far... don't you think maybe something was wrong before all this shit with harry started?" He says. "You were angry a lot and drinking a ton... something has been bothering you hasn't it?"

I shake my head. He's not going there. He's seriously not going there.

"So what?" I snap. "So what if I was going through family shit and so what if I had a shit relationship with Bruce? You're gonna blame my issues on that?"

"Well, they don't come out of thin air, Louis. You've been struggling with your anger for a while," he says. "Listen. Just listen. It doesn't have to be like this, okay? You can work through it and feel normal again. And eat fish and chips again - and you won't get fat. You can't get fat that way. And we will play football and videogames and you can be Louis again.... how does that sound?"

"Sounds like," I snip, "you should go fuck yourself."

A/n: he has a bad bad attitude. Idk where this story is going it's supposed to be Larry But I have to get them together. Does anyone wanna see harry POV? Or should I keep it louis


	12. explosion

Trigger warning: homophobia 

February 21 

Harry's POV 

When I wake up for work, I wash my face in the sink and examine myself in the mirror. Dark circles rim my eyes and my stubble is more outgrown than I'd like it to be. One of the perks of being a writer is that I don't really need to look presentable, so I can get away with bad hair days and sloppy outfits. 

Usually, though, I prefer to look my best. Clean pressed trousers and collared shirts are my favorites. I have about eight different floral blouses in my closet, but I can't wear them in public. So I go with the solid colored collared shirts. They're close enough. 

As I pull on some clothes, I check my phone to see if I have any notifications. It's been two days since the incident with Louis and I'm not quite sure what I'm supposed to do. Is he supposed to reach out or me?

Niall and Liam said to give him some time, and that he wasn't in a place to talk to me right now. Niall actually met up with him to talk about it and to ask him to get help for his eating disorder, but he stormed out and no one has heard from him since. 

His eating disorder. Fuck. 

I know it was me. I know that I caused it. Well maybe I didn't cause it. He was fucked up before, according to Niall. But I definitely triggered something within him with my comments, and I regret it so fucking much. 

If I could go back in time and change things, I would. No one deserves to suffer like that. No one. Not even Eliza. 

Eliza. Ugh. I cringe as I think about that woman and what she's done to my head. Random quotes of hers play in my ear.

"Harry, Harry are you really wearing that blouse? Take that off, that looks like my clothes..."

"Harold. Are you really fucking ogling that man, get your eyes off him... I'm a super model Harry. I let this bisexuality thing go, but now I see it. You must be gay."

"Get out of here and go fuck someone in the ass. Or better yet, get fucked. You will not raise my child. It's mine."

I shake my head to get the thoughts to go away, but of course they won't. It doesn't matter anyways, because the minute I stop thinking about Eliza I will just start thinking about Louis again. 

Louis and his bright blue eyes and his dazzling smile and his perfect hair. 

He's gorgeous. And just thinking about him makes me happy... but then I realize the truth of it all. That his blue eyes are a little bit duller than they once were. His smile is fading. And his hair is falling out in clumps. 

All because of me. 

I resist the urge to self harm. It's entered my mind way too many days in the past few days, but the scars on my wrists are finally starting to heal. And I promised myself I would never open those wounds up again...

I have tattoos there now, where the scars once were. Where the pain that radiated from my soul once surfaced. It's funny to think how I thought those were the hardest times of my life... they seem minuscule in comparison to what's going on now. 

As I ride the subway to work, I make a mental list in my head of all the things that are bothering me. I don't really know why I do it. All it does is bring me down more, but sometimes that's what I enjoy. I enjoy sinking deeper into my thoughts, spiraling further and further down the path of darkness. 

I like to torture myself, especially when I deserve it. I stare into space and begin the list, gripping the subway pole with white knuckles. 

1\. Eliza is having my baby.

Eliza, who abused me. Eliza, who called me a faggot. Eliza, who says I'll be an unfit twink of a father. But it's also the Eliza who loved me. The Eliza who supported me, who got my poetry publicity off the ground. Eliza, who smelled like cherry blossoms and tasted like strawberries. Eliza, who told me she loved me on the top of the Empire State...

How could something so beautiful turn to something so ugly? It happened so fast. I love her, but I also hate her. I don't know if I'll love our child. I might hate it too. 

2\. I'm bisexual. But nobody knows. Except for Eliza. And the guys. But not my family, not my coworkers. It's not something a share, it's not something I can share. My genre of poetry is almost entirely heterosexual. People love me for the way I describe the female body, the way I talk about Eliza and her character. What would they think if I started writing about men in the same way? What would think if I started writing about my true self?

3\. Louis. Everything about Louis... the whole thing. The whole fucking thing. How I like him, how I have a crush on him. How I fucked him up so fucking badly. He's dying now because of what I said. A few selfish words caused a lifetime of pain, and I can't reverse that damage. Fuck, I can't even talk to him. I'm a coward.

The list could go on but the train stops and I force myself to walk up the platform and to the office. I don't feel like writing today. But it's better than sitting around the house and writing poems about my sadness. No one wants to read that. They just want romance and love and passion. All things that I don't have right now, and maybe never will. 

"Hey, Harry!" Niall says excitedly, handing me a cup of coffee. "Ready for the meeting today? We're presenting the Pret deal."

The Pret Deal... oh god, no.

"The... the one I did with Louis?" I ask, trying to hold back how I upset I am. 

"Yeah...?" Niall says, wrinkling his nose. "Are you okay? Oh... you're still upset about... okay. You don't have to do it. We'll reschedule." 

"I mean I could do it," I say, shrugging. "I just..."

"No, no," Niall says, shuffling his papers. "That's okay. Me and Li will take care of it. Sorry, I forgot. Things have crazy lately."

"Crazy, how?" I ask, following him to his desk.

Niall bites his lip. "Well, this past weekend. Liam isn't doing great, given the Zayn thing and all. And neither is Louis with his stuff. Just not good."

"Wow, yeah, that's a lot," I say. Why do I always have to sound like a fucking dick whenever I speak? I swear it's the monotone that makes me sound apathetic but I'm not. 

"Yeah," Niall says, frowning.

"I, um. How's Louis?" I blurt out. 

"Haven't talked to him mate," Niall says. "Liam is gonna try to knock on his door later this week. We know one of his neighbors and so we asked if he heard anything. Says he doesn't talk to Lou but sees him in the building gym all damn day for hours..."

"Oh, god. That's not good," I say. My stomach twists in knots and I feel my palms start to sweat. 

"Yeah, he's in rough shape. He might have to go to rehab. I looked it up. We think he's anorexic - thinks he's fat, lost an extreme amount of weight, over-exercises...." Niall says.

He must notice my face fall because he adds: "Oh, no, Harry. Stop it. It's not your fault, it's really not. Like... I get why you feel guilty and all, but seriously it's nature and nurture. It's a pre-disposition kind of thing. At least from what I read. Like if you made that comment to someone else they wouldn't develop an eating disorder... it was a fucked up thing to say, but you can't blame yourself for his condition."

"I'm always gonna blame myself," I say, looking down at my shoes. "I ... I think I need to go home."

"Are you sure?" Niall asks, raising an eyebrow. He lowers his voice. "Is this... do you like him?"

I stare at Niall, holding back tears. I want to tell him but I can't I shouldn't. "I don't know," I choke. And then I speed walk out of the office and to the nearest bathroom I can find. 

I've cried in more bathrooms than I can count on two hands. I guess I'm just a sensitive person, but sometimes the pressure is too much, and my only way to escape is to excuse myself and release my emotions in the restroom. 

When I'm done crying, I wipe my tears and blot my face with a wet paper towel. It cools me down and stops the swelling, so by the time I emerge, no one can tell I was crying. 

Today, I don't even bother blotting my face when I'm done. I'm upset and I don't care who sees it. I'm upset at Niall for having me come in for this presentation about work I did with Louis. But even more than that, I'm mad at myself for the situation with Louis. For all the fucked up shit I did....

And ugh. I just want to do something about it. Do something, talk to him, something. 

My heart starts racing and all I can think about is how I have to see him. I need to see him, right now. Right this second. And if he punches me again, good. I fucking deserve it. 

But I just need to talk to him. 

It's a Thursday. Does Louis have work on Thursdays... I can't even fucking remember. Eliza has work on Thursdays. But it's not about her... it's not about me... it's about him.

It's always been about him, hasn't it?

I rush down the street, not even sure which direction I'm headed in. My legs are pumping and I feel tears forming in my eyes but I don't care. I just don't care anymore.

As I bustle around the city streets, I get an impending feeling of doom. Like something bad is going to happen to me but I don't know what. 

Screw it, I think to myself. Let it happen. Let it fucking happen.

A/N: so we finally know what harry is thinking. yikes. he's pretty angry and messed up.... what do u think?


	13. screw it

Feb 21 (cont)   
Harry's POV

After racing around the city for what feels like hours, I suddenly remember Louis' address and start to head to his house. I know I shouldn't be going over there. I know I shouldn't. Every fiber of my being is telling me it's a bad idea.

But I can't control myself.

My head is spinning by the time I take the A train downtown and enter Louis' apartment. Luckily, the doorman isn't there, so I head upstairs without an issue.

Hands shaking, I knock on his door. Am I really doing this? I wonder. I guess I am...

No one answers, so I knock again, this time louder.

"Please open up!" I shout. "It's important."

I hear faint footsteps but still no one answers the door. I wait for a minute and then knock a third time.

This time, the door instantly swings open. "What the fuck do you want?" Louis cries.

I take a step back, and when we lock eyes, he glares at me.

"Oh god, it's you," Louis spits. "Please do me a favor and leave, Harold."

"I... Please can we just talk for five minutes," I say. I put my hands up defensively, unsure if he's going to hit me or not.

"Stop it, I'm not going to hit you," he says, rolling his eyes.

He steps out of the apartment now, and I can get a better look at him. He's wearing athletic shorts and a tank top, which reveal his bony legs and skeletal arms. The upper part of his arm is so thin that it's nearly the same width as his forearm, and I bite my tongue, looking down at the floor guiltily.

"I... okay, well, I just wanted to tell you, I'm sorry. About all of it. I should never have... well, honestly, I should just leave you alone at this point because I've said it a thousand times and you say there's nothing I can do to fix it... I just..." I begin.

Louis rolls his eyes, folding his arms across his chest. "Save it, Styles. I don't care what you have to say. I want nothing to do with you."

My face falls, but I know he's right. "I understand, I should go.... but I just want to tell you one thing...."

"You have so many things to tell me," he groans, rolling his eyes again. His voice sounds a bit hoarse, like he's been shouting.... or throwing up...

"I think you're really attractive and smart and talented and funny. Regardless of the words that came out of my mouth, my initial thought when I first saw you was: wow, that man is gorgeous," I blurt out. "I thought you were stunning. Your blue eyes, your perfectly styled hair, your jawline and stubble. Your muscles, your curves."

Louis is staring at me, his eyes unblinking. I wonder if he's going to say something, but he just continues to stare, and then eventually bursts out laughing.

I feel my face grow red, but I continue. He might not believe me, but he needs to know these things. He needs to.

"I know you think I'm a liar, but if you.. I don't know if you just listen and watch my face, maybe you'll see that I'm not... And you weren't just hot to me, you were smart and talented. Liam gave me your name before we got there and I looked up your writing. It's incredible. You have such a humorous, snarky voice... and I just, I don't know, Louis. I wanted you. I still want you..."

I take a step closer to Louis. My heart is racing and all I want to do right now is touch him. I make eye contact with him, trying to read his features. He's stopped laughing now, and looks up with me with his blue eyes, cocking his head to the side.

"I just," I breathe, running a hand through my curls. "I know I have wronged you and you hate me. I get that. But... I just need another chance. I'm begging you."

"I do hate you," Louis says quietly, eyeing me cautiously. "Give me one single reason why I shouldn't? And not just because you think I'm hot and talented, whatever that means."

"Because...." I reply. "Because I care for you, Louis. Even though you don't believe me. And I want to show you that you're loved, that you're cared for. I... fuck, on the dance floor the other night, it killed me to watch you dance with that guy. To go home with someone who didn't care about you - who didn't even know your name. I wanted to kiss you that night, when were dancing.... I just.... fuck..."

Louis purses his lips and tugs at the string on his athletic shirts. "So you - the guy who bullied me and put me down within minutes of meeting me - is saying that he can treat me better than that charming gentleman in the club... interesting...."

"Louis!" I say, raising my voice. "Will you fucking stop, twisting my words. I like you. I care about you.... I think you're amazing - everyone thinks you're amazing except for you."

"Alright, Harry. I'll stop twisting your words," Louis says with a sigh. "In fact, I'll join in on your little game. LEt's say for whatever reason, you actually did care about me. And then, even more absurdly, I let you show me how much you cared... what would you do?"

He takes a step towards me and I feel my knees wobble a little. Holy shit... is this really happening....?

"I guess," I begin. "I guess, I would hold you in my arms and tell you how beautiful you are. Rub your back a little, kiss your forehead. Tell you how much our conversations have made me laugh, made me feel better. Tell you how great you are at writing..."

Louis nods. "Okay, mhm. But what if you couldn't talk... what would you do... hug me and what else?"

I swallow thickly. Why is he teasing me like this?

"I would kiss you. Grab your jaw and kiss you," I say, nearly whispering.

Louis steps forward again, and this time there are only inches separating us. Our faces are nearly touching and I feel his breath against my face.

A joke, this is a joke.

"And what else?" Louis asks, biting his bottom lip.

"I would probably take you to the bedroom. Do it however you like it. Give you whatever you want. Satisfy you," I say breathily.

Louis moves his face even closer to mine. "Would you?" he asks.

I nod. "Yeah."

Without hesitating, Louis grabs my face, and starts to kiss me. "Like this?" he asks.

I kiss him back, allowing the euphoria to wash over me as our lips make contact for the first time. This has to be a dream.

But it's not a dream. We're inside the apartment now, and Louis is pushing me against the wall. He's pretty strong for a guy who looks more fragile than my mother's antique China.

"So kiss me, then fuck me? How original," Louis growls, continuing to kiss me. I kiss back, dipping my tongue into his mouth. He nibbles on my lip and pushes his tongue against mine.

Then, without hesitating, He removes his lips from my mouth and begins to suck harshly on my collarbone, leaving behind a large purple mark. I sigh a bit, closing my eyes and savoring the sensation. He's so good at this... he's so good at everything.

When he's done, I return the favor and start to suck on His collarbone, which is protruding to an obscene extent. At first I didn't notice, but now I sort of feel like if I suck any harder the bone might pop out. And that's when I realize that I'm not attracted to Louis, I'm repulsed by him.

I did find him attractive. I found him attractive when I met him at the bar - when he was still Louis. But the man before me is just a mere fragment of who he once was. He's underweight and exercise obsessed and as we hook up, as much as I want to feel turned on, all I feel is worried.

Worried for his health, both mental and physical. Worried if I'm hurting him, worried if he's going to pass out.

This isn't right.

I continue though. Because Louis has already started, and if we stop now, there's no doubt he will throw a tantrum. He will accuse me of lying and finding him fat or some other absurd concept that is nowhere near true.

We're heading to the bedroom now. Louis is dragging me there.

"So show me what you had planned," he says, removing his shorts and shirt. "Ignore my fat, I know it's awful."

It takes everything in me not to cringe when I see him naked. He is not fat- nowhere near it. In fact, he's so small that he's wasting away.

Louis' ribs are entirely visible, sticking out and poking angrily against the skin. He has a six pack, maybe even an eight pack, but his ab muscles are thin and weak, straining against his skin.

His thighs, now exposed, are separated by a large gap. I feel myself start to grow hot, and choke back tears. But He can't see me react this way. I have to be positive.

"Mmm," I say, forcing myself to perk up. "Not fat. Sexy. So sexy."

Louis shoots me a half smile and leans forward to help me remove my clothes too. I unbutton my shirt and then take off my pants, shimmying my boxers off onto the floor.

"How do I want it Harry?" Louis says, once we're both undressed. "How do you think I want it?"

I shrug, and begin to kiss his lips in order to help stall a bit. I realize that when I focus on his face, I feel fully turned on. His face is still gorgeous, even though it's much paler and thinner than it once was. But his body is what repulses me.

"I feel like you wanna top," I whisper into his ear. I am hoping and praying that's what he wants - because after seeing his concave ass and visible tailbone, I'm not sure I can stay hard while inside of him.

"Bingo," Louis breathes. "I always top."

"Great," I reply, sliding onto my stomach. Louis reaches over to grab some lube and then begins to enter me with a shaky finger, weaving it in and out for a few seconds.

"Mmm," I growl, as the pain slowly turns into pleasure. "Feels good."

"Yeah, are you ready then?" Louis asks, pulling his fingers out.

I nod and he readies himself by putting on a condom and aligning his lips with my ass. Without hesitation, he slides inside me and begins to thrust.

The sensation is indescribable. The feeling of Louis inside me is amazing, but the sharp pain of his bony hip bones slamming against me is jarring. I simultaneously want to celebrate and cry.

Celebrate because this is finally happening... I'm finally getting with the guy I've been pining after for weeks.

Cry because he's dying. He's dying and it's my fault.

"You feel so good," Louis moans, speeding up his thrusts.

"So do you," I choke.

The more I focus on Louis, the less I think about our fucked up history together and how underweight he is. I can feel it - it's so fucking apparent. But I want to please him - I have to. And so I put all my energy into thinking about how beautiful he was the night I first met him.

The way he walked over to us with class and attitude. His curvy hips, his rounded bum. His sexy smile....

"Fuck," I moan, gripping my dick. "I'm coming."

Louis quickens his motion and grabs my ass cheeks tightly, throwing his head back and letting out a low moan. He pulls out and begins to cum just as I'm finishing all over the bed sheets.

When we're both done, I sort of just lay there on the bed, not knowing what to do. Not knowing what to say. Unsure if this was a good thing or a bad thing. A godsend or fucking catastrophe.

A/n: yikes... what do u think? was this too much?


	14. discussions

Trigger warning: mentions of suicide and suicide attempts

Suicide is not a joke. This is not meant to dramatize suicide in any way, just to raise awareness and bring light to the issue. It is no one's fault; it is the result of a mental illness.

Feb 21 (cont)

Louis' POV

As soon as we finish having sex, I feel sick to my stomach. And not just because I just fucked Harry Styles. I actually feel sick....

Oh my god.

I rush to the bathroom, and collapse onto the toilet, vomiting violently.

My head is a whirlwind of thoughts. I hardly remember Harry entering my apartment. How did he get in here? Why is here? And most importantly, why did I fuck him?

I haven't eaten anything but carrots in the past three days and so of course my puke is coming up orange. I wince and heave again, nearly hitting my face on the toilet seat.

I feel simultaneously hot and cold at the same time, and then I begin to feel dizzy, like I'm about to...

When I open my eyes, Harry is standing over me, stroking my head softly.

"Are- are you okay?" he stammers.

I blink my eyes, looking around. The cold white tiles of the bathroom floor feel smooth beneath my fingers, and Harry's hand feels soft and strong on my forehead.

"I... honestly, dunno," I admit, sitting up. I instantly feel like I'm going to throw up again, but the feeling passes and my head begins to throb instead.

"I'm going to take you to the doctor, okay?" Harry says quietly, offering me a head.

I'm not sure if I should take it. Should I take it? Should I trust anything this guy does? Thank god I wore a condom.

Harry stares at me, waiting for me to take his hand. I want to. Deep down I want to take it. I want to go to the doctor. This isn't the first time I've passed out in the past few days, and my joints have been aching mercilessly for weeks. My hair is falling out, my skin is a pale grey color.

I feel s o s i c k.

But I can't go to the hospital. I fucking can't. Because if I go, they'll tell me I have a problem. That I have a problem and that I have to eat more. And they'll make me eat more. Tons and tons of food until I get fat - fat like the old Louis that Harry hated. The old, disgusting, fat, lazy Louis.

He sucked. I still suck, as my present self. I still don't get writing gigs. Fuck, I got fired from my cashier job and I can't even pay rent now. And I'm still fat, still gross. But at least I am making progress, at least I'm getting less fat over time. That's all the really matters anyways, isn't it.

"No," I say weakly, shaking my head. I get up on my own, my legs shaking as I rise to my feet.

I nearly trip, and Harry places his arm on the arch of my back to support me.

"Don't... don't touch me..." I say, pushing his hand away. I'm about to cry now. I'm so disgusting.

"Louis... I can feel your spine," Harry says. The color drains from his face and he grabs my wrist, slowly walking me to the bedroom.

We both sit down on the bed next to each other, not saying anything, not looking at each other.

"You're hurting yourself because of me," Harry says in a husky voice. It's the first time I ever heard any real intonation in his voice, any tangible emotion. Because of me... because of him...

"I'm not hurting myself," I say flatly.

He turns to me, his green eyes wet with tears. "You are though. Starving and over exercising are methods of self harm. I just.... it doesn't matter how I feel though. But I want you to know, Louis, that people have made fun of me before too. People have done the very thing I did to you...."

I sit there, staring at my bare feet, looking at the myriad of veins that surely weren't so visible before.

"Not telling you this to make you feel bad for me.... just telling you so I can show you that I understand... they made fun of me every day in high school, called me a faggot. I wasn't even bi yet. I didn't know I was. I just liked to dress feminine, but still liked girls. I started to believe it, internalized it. One day I went home and tried to kill myself because I thought that was the only way...." Harry swallowed thickly. "The only way to make it stop. Even when they weren't taunting me, I could hear their voices in my head. I never felt good enough..."

I blink at Harry. He had tried to kill himself? He seemed so put together, so cool and collected. Like he had just walked off of a movie set... I had no idea.

"How did you... try?" I ask, the words feeling bitter on my tongue. He tried but failed, obviously.

Thank god.

"Tried to overdose," Harry said, his voice cracking a bit. "My, um, mum found me in time. They saved me...."

I scoot a bit closer to him. "And when you woke up?"

"Everyone was crying, all for me. I saw how much I had destroyed my family - how badly I would have hurt them had I done it... I don't know why I'm telling you this Louis. I just, I know what it's like to have other peoples' words make you feel worthless. To tear you up inside, and stay on repeat in your head. Which is why I, of all people, should never have said those things to you, knowing how badly words hurt.... I just....."

Harry is crying now, sobbing softly. It's not the first time I've seen him cry, but it's the first time I feel bad for him. The first time I whole heatedly believe he's being genuine.

I reach out my hand and rub his back, smoothing soft circles against his shoulder blades.

"Sorry," Harry sniffles. "I just, I wanted to tell you. If you ever think you're not worth it, think you're too fat or not good enough or whatever's going on in your head. It's not true. There are people who care. Liam cares. Niall cares. Your family cares. I know you hate me, but I care too. All the people reading your lovely writing, they care. And we all want you to be healthy Louis, we want you to get better. We want you to eat again. We want you to be Louis again."

Now I'm going to cry. I know I shouldn't trust Harry and that all he's ever caused me was pain, but fuck. I feel like my heart is exploding because underneath his fancy button downs and snarky smile and monotone voice, he's just like me. He's exactly like me.

"I... I want to believe they care," I say, a tear dripping down my cheek. "I do, I really do, but...."

"The demons tell you otherwise," Harry says, finishing my sentence for me.

I nod weakly. My neck is aching and I'm not even sure it can support my head anymore. I'm a fucking mess.

"Yeah," I say. My voice is nearly a whisper. "The voice..."

"The voice that tells you you're not good enough, that you don't deserve anything... that you deserve, pain," Harry says. As he speaks, he rolls up the sleeve of his shirt, taking my hand gently and placing it on his wrist.

"I have tattoos here now," he says. "But underneath you can still feel the scars."

I trace my finger against the skin, which feels rough, with jagged, raised bumps.

"How did you?" I ask, biting my lip. I'm not sure if I want to cry or be sick, but my stomach is churning and my eyes are heavy with tears.

"How did I what?" Harry asks.

"How did you stop... cutting... feeling like that... feeling worthless?" I say, shifting in my seat.

Harry slides his wrist off my hand and intertwines our fingers. "I got help."

"Oh," I reply. Not the answer I'm looking for.

"Help," Harry says, taking a deep breath. "I asked for help. I saw therapists, doctors, psychiatrists. And that got the ball rolling. That got me realizing how lucky I was... that even if I was feeling like shit, it would pass. I know you don't want to hear it Lou, but it's... it's what gonna help you. It's what you deserve."

"I just..." I start to talk but the words aren't coming out. They feel stuck in my throat like the ice cube I nearly choked on yesterday as I shoveled down handfuls of ice to soothe the burning feeling in my empty stomach.

"I know I'm fucked up," I squeak. "I know. But I just.... I'm not that sick, I'm not going to kill myself."

"Maybe not intentionally, but Lou - you are killing yourself. You can die from an eating disorder," Harry says, his eyes widening. We're still holding hands and he gives it a small squeeze. "This is not about comparison Louis. This is to show you you're not alone."

"But I'm not that thin," I say. That's what the voice in my mind is screaming - and has been screaming throughout this entire conversation. I'm not that thin, not that sick. Not ill enough.

Harry turns to me, his green irises swimming in tears. "Louis, I'm not going to drag you kicking and screaming to the ER. But you just passed out, you've been passing out. It's time to face reality, Louis. You're sick. And it's not your fault. It's my fault. I did this."

He pauses to wipe his eyes. "And I hate myself for it. And I want to dig these fucking tattoos right up with scratches. But I'm not... I'm not Louis. Because I want to be here, I want to be present. I want to feel my emotions, feel the pain. I deserve it, I don't deserve to escape...."

I just, I just. Wow. I don't even know what to say.

I didn't know I had this effect on him, truly. He said it a thousand times that he felt horrible for this - but I never really knew how deeply he felt. How much he cared.

"Louis, please. I'll just ask you once. Will you please come to the ER with me? Just to get bloodwork. Just to see if you're okay. And then from there, you can make appointments, you can see the right people who will help you feel less like this...." Harry chokes.

I want to say yes. Deep inside, the old Louis, the Louis who used to love food and music and writing, he's kicking and screaming for me to say yes. But the voice is louder - the voice is saying 'no, no, no.'

"I can't," I say, shaking my head. "They'll tell me I have to gain weight, and I can't."

Harry stares at me, his lips red from biting. "You know you need to Louis. You can't go on starving yourself. Louis.... just think of it this way. All we're doing is getting results, seeing how your health is. No one can MAKE you do anything. And if you do need to eat more, which won't necessarily lead to weight gain, we're going to help you. Me and Niall and Liam. We will, you know that?"

'Absolutely fucking not, he's lying,' the voice hisses. 

"Louis please," Harry says. He takes both of my hands. "Don't let this get worse, Louis. Please."

"I just can't," I say, pulling my hands away. "Harry, you have to go."

Harry shakes his head, and jumps up, swiftly picking me up bridal style.

I immediately start to flail my arms and legs, hitting him wildly. "Put me down!" I yell.

Harry does put me down, in front of the wall by the window.

"Just stand there," Harry says. He takes out his phone and before I can react, he takes a photo of me. In my boxers, completely huge and exposed.

When he's done, he hands the phone to me. I nearly drop it...

I look so sick. Nothing but bones. No muscles, no ass, no nothing. Just bones.

"I... oh fuck," I stammer handing the phone back to him.

"It's not your fault," Harry says, walking me back to the couch. "No let's get dressed. And let's go, yeah? Just for the tests."

I nod, or at least I think I do. My head is spinning from the photo and I just feel empty. This can't be real life....

A/N: Sorry this is so dark :(


	15. low

Feb 21

Harry's POV

I wait in the waiting room while Louis gets his bloodwork done. Suddenly, the aftermath of my jog around New York City begins to set in and my eyes begin to close, sleepiness overtaking my body.

As I listen to the muffled coughs of the patient next to me, I try not to think about why I'm here. But of course that doesn't work.

Louis is sick because of me. Because of me. Because of me.

The voice replays in my head and I resist the urge to shuffle to the bathroom and numb out. I don't have a razor with me, but my keys could work if I tried hard enough.

I can't though. It would be too easy to do that. And I can't check out now — I have to stay fully attentive for Louis. I'm here for Louis.

Louis.

I can't believe what I told him before. I never told anyone those things- not even Eliza. I was cutting half the time I was with her, as it wasn't even until the middle of our relationship that I got help. But I never told her, she never knew. In fact, she only made it worse.

I hear footsteps now and my eyes flutter open. I know those footsteps, slow and stumbling. It's Louis and he looks pale as a fucking ghost. Even more pale than he did on our way to the office.

"Hey," I say, walking over to him. "You okay?"

A nurse approaches us and shakes her head. "He passed out back there, and refuses to drink the juice or have a cookie. Has to get his blood sugar up."

I swallow thickly, unsure how to handle the situation. "Okay," I say.

"Not okay. I took his weight too, ridiculously low. We're gonna have to have a doctor see him," she says, motioning for Louis to follow her back into the emergency wing.

Louis stands there, biting his lip and looking up at me like a child who lost their mother. I know he doesn't wanna go. Of course he doesn't. But he has to.

"Louis," I say, taking his hand. "It's gonna be fine. They're just gonna talk to you. I'll come with you."

The nurse rolls her eyes. "Maybe you can get him to drink the juice."

Louis and I follow her to a back room, where were told to wait until the doctor can see Louis. I sit in a chair next to the doctor's desk, folding my legs awkwardly.

"I feel like a fucking child right now," Louis huffs, crossing his arms over his chest.

"They're just checking to see if you're alright," I reply gently. As we were walking, the nurse had handed me the juice, and I hold it out to Louis. "I know you don't want this, but you'll feel less dizzy. I promise."

Louis rolls his eyes and takes the juice box but doesn't drink it. "Now I truly am I child. Drinking fruit juice."

"You do have a young face..." I joke, chuckling a bit.

Louis glares at me, but when I look away I can see him crack a smile in my peripheral vision.

"I think white I'm here I might get an STI test," Louis replies, smirking. "I used a condom but I still don't trust you."

"Very funny," I say. I'm laughing but deep down my chest is swelling with anxiety. Is it fucked up how happy I feel right now? I'm sitting in the hospital with this guy who is literally d y i n g because of me. But I also have feelings for him and he's reciprocating them and that's all I can really focus on...

It was never supposed to be like this. He was never supposed to get sick. We were never supposed to have sex - especially not with him being in this state. None of this should have ever happened.

I should never have met the lad. I should have kept my mouth shut and stayed out of his life. But I didn't. I didn't and here we are....

"Louis," the doctor says, barging in, clipboard in hand. It's a middle aged woman with blonde hair and kind blue eyes.

"I put a rush on your blood tests. They came back fine, but your iron is low and your electrolytes are off. I can give you an iron pill and you should start drinking water with electrolytes and eating more bananas," she says. "But honestly, I'm more concerned about your weight. You don't look okay. How do you feel?"

I sigh and place my face in my palms. There's no way he's going to tell her the truth.

"I'm feeling well," Louis says, sitting up straight as if on cue.

The doctor frowns at him, skeptically. "Louis, I don't have a lot of time today, so I think if you're honest about your symptoms it'll make this a lot easier. For one I can see you're pale and experiencing hair loss. Any pain?"

Louis glares at her and runs a hand through his hair, quickly. "It's just stress. No pain."

"Okay, well I'll do a quick physical," she says, walking over to him with her stethoscope.

As she listens to her heart beat she turns to him and lowers her voice. "Do you ever feel like there's a screaming voice in your head telling you you're fat or you shouldn't eat?"

Louis looks straight ahead, unblinking. "No."

"Okay," she says, strapping on the blood pressure sleeve to check his vitals.

We all sit there in silence as the machine beeps. Louis closes his eyes, aiming his face towards the floor.

"Louis, your heart rate is dangerously low. We are gonna have to keep you here," the doctor says, shaking her head.

Louis' leans forward as if he's about to respond. But he doesn't. Instead, he passes out

Louis' POV

I open my eyes to find Harry, Niall and Liam surrounding me like I had just woken up from a coma or some shit.

"The Fuck?" I mumble, trying to sit up. Of course I can't because I'm attached to a fucking IV.

I lock eyes with Harry and my cheeks turn red as I think about what we had done not too long ago... damn.

"Hey, There," Niall says, smiling at me. "Got you a bear."

He tosses me a blue teddy bear, and I catch it, but not without getting tubes caught in the process. One of the tubes, I notice, leads up my arm and to my face.... to my face?

I put the bear down and pull at it. Oh my god.... it was a fucking feeding tube.

"No," I growl. "No get this out. I am fine. I am FINE. Hello!!!"

Liam steps towards me, kneeling next to me at the side of my bed. "Shhhh, It's okay," he says. "You are in a critical state. Malnourished with a low heart rate. It's gonna Make you better."

Is he fucking kidding me. I glare at him, trying to hold back tears.

"Do Not talk to me like I am a fucking child, Liam," I spit. "They can't do this without my consent."

Liam looks over at Harry for support. "Louis, you passed out and had a seizure. It's really bad," he says softly. "They can do it without your consent because you weren't conscious."

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

This wasn't supposed to happen. It was never supposed to get this bad. I knew my diet was getting out of hand, but I never thought I would die from it.

Suddenly, I don't feel depressed or worthless anymore. I don't feel angry. I just feel scared, terrified for my life. Because I almost just fucking died.

"Harry," I say, waving him over. Liam walks back over to Niall and starts a conversation with him. "Is this how you felt.... when you tried to... when you almost died.... I'm so scared right now. I'm so scared...."

Harry nods, lowering himself so we're at eye level. He rests his chin on his hands and looks up on me. "I was scared too," he says. "It was terrifying. But it was a wake up call. A second chance."

I nod and swallow. It does feel like a second chance.... I can't die like this.... I can't die....

"I'm so sorry," I start to cry. Harry leans over to hug me and Niall and Liam join in. "I'm so sorry i never listened. You all told me to stop the diet. You told me and I didn't listen one bit and now I almost just died... I almost died right here... oh my god."

"Hey, it's not your fault mate," Niall says, patting my back. "It's a disorder. It's an obsession beyond your control."

"But... i don't want to have a disorder, i just want to go back to how things were. But I can't. I can't or I'll get fat," I sniffle.

I don't think I've ever broken down in front of my friends more than this in my life, but i don't even care anymore. I can't filter myself, my feelings are just spewing out of my mouth like vomit. 

"You won't. You won't, they'll help you set up a meal plan with all healthy foods. You'll get your muscle back," Liam explains. He's holding some kind of pamphlet and I can tell they've been doing research on whatever it is I have... well, what I know I have...

"Fuck," I say. "I just don't know if I'm strong enough."

"You will be. You'll see a therapist who specializes in this stuff," Harry explains. "I went to one too. Hated it at first but it helped me tons. Saved my life really."

I look at Harry, studying his face with my eyes. He had five o'clock shadow and dark circles under his eyes, but he still looks beautiful. Handsome, lean, glowing.

"Harry... I... I know I made it seem like I hate you," I say, biting my lip. "But I don't... i never hated you. Even when you were mean to me. I liked you."

Harry looks at me, his lips parting slightly. He cocks his head to the side, and slowly takes my hand.

"Thank you Louis," He whispers. "I know I don't deserve it... but i appreciate it so much. I always liked you to."

Niall and Liam smile as Harry plants a kiss on my cheek. I know I shouldn't be feeling happy, given I'm in a fucking hospital bed. But Harry's touch is enough to make me feel okay again, even if it's just for a brief moment.

"Thank you guys too," I say to Niall and Liam. "I haven't been the easiest person to deal with lately. Thanks for sticking around."

"Of course," Niall says with a smile.

"Always here for you," Liam chimes in.

I nod and smile at them. I don't have much else to say, so we just sit there in silence, watching the football game on Telly.

For a little while, it feels like old times. Just watching the game with the boys. But then a nurse comes in with a heaping plate of chicken and rice and that's when I remember how morbidly, helplessly fucked up I am.

And how I need to change - or I could lose my life.


	16. acceptance

~~~Very emotional (triggers: Eating disorder and self harm, from this point forward basically)

Feb 24

Harry's POV 

They decide to release Louis from the hospital after three days. To be completely honest, he doesn't look much better to me, but the doctor's say he's stable enough to start doing treatment. He has the option of outpatient and inpatient, though they highly recommend inpatient given how underweight he is.

"What's the difference?" Louis asks nervously, shifting in his hospital bed.

His question surprises me - I thought for certain that Louis would resist any form of treatment. Then again, I think he may be starting to come to terms with his condition. Over the past few days, his health issues have shown him how serious things are.

Two days ago, after the feeding tube incident, Niall, Liam and I all took turns talking to Louis individually. We read pamphlets about anorexia and talked to the doctors to make sure we had a full understanding of what was going on with him.

While Liam was having his turn talking with Louis, Niall and I sat in the waiting area and chatted.

"I mean I always knew you liked him," Niall said. "But I didn't think he liked you. The way he looked at you, though. He seems so... so involved with you..."

I bit my lip. "Yeah... I was shocked too. I, fuck, I doubt he wants me to tell you this, but I went to his house to apologize for the millionth time. I just couldn't stop thinking about him. And well, he was really angry about it, but it turned into a hot kind of angry. I told him I liked him and he asked me what I was going to do about it...."

"Oh shit!" Niall replied, his blue eyes widening. "Did you....?"

"Yeah," I replied in a low tone. "Yeah, we probably shouldn't have, though. Once he got his clothes off, I could see how ill he was... all bones and ribs. I wanted to cry."

Niall nodded, toying with the pamphlet in his hand. "Makes sense. I've seen it getting worse and worse. I just didn't know how to help. At least you brought him here. He's finally getting the help he needs."

"I hope so," I replied as I looked down at my shoes. "My ex, Eliza, got really sick with anorexia too. She's still not completely out of it. She eats just enough to get by and be considered 'healthy.' She's still very thin, and really tortures herself with exercise and strict eating... even now that she's pregnant, she hasn't lightened up with it at all. Always posting videos of herself working out intensely at the gym even though she's several months along."

"Yikes," Niall said, squeezing my shoulder. "That sounds rough. Well let's hope Louis can do better. Let's hope we can help him, yeah? And maybe if you talk with your ex she'll realize it's not healthy..."

"I tried," I said. "No use. She hates me. Doesn't want me involved. She thinks I'm gay. Might be right..."

"That's not a bad thing," Niall says. "It's hard to figure out who you are. And you'll still be a great dad."

I stretched out my legs, unable to get comfortable. Suddenly, a wave of nausea crashed down on me and I began to realize that I was going to be a dad soon. Even if Eliza wouldn't let me help her, the baby was still going to be born soon. And I would still be its dad.

How the fuck was I going to be a father if I didn't even know who I was? If I couldn't even help myself? If I couldn't even help Louis? I wasn't ready...

Now, as I sit with Louis, the doctor begins explaining inpatient and outpatient. I remove myself from my memories and try to stay present in the conversation. I can't think about Eliza now. I'm thinking about Louis. Louis is my focus. Louis is the one I care about.

"Well, for inpatient you would stay here overnight, probably for three weeks, and you would eat meals here and do therapy sessions and art activities. It would get you on track faster than if you went home and you would have round the clock medical care," the doctor says, tapping her clipboard. "For outpatient you would come see us 3 times a week. Meet with a doctor, nutritionist and therapist. You would follow the meal plan at home."

Louis looks up at me as if I have the answers hiding somewhere in my hair. "Well, what do you think you want to do, Lou?" I ask.

He frowns. "Dunno. Neither really. I guess outpatient. I can try the meal plans at home by myself. Can I still go to the gym?"

The doctor shakes her head and Louis' face falls. "That's how you got in this mess," she says. "You can exercise once you get healthy again. Your bones and muscles are weak right now, it would only stress them further and land you back here."

I notice Louis take a deep breath, as if the severity of his problem is finally washing over him. A reality check, perhaps.

"I was having a lot of pain working out," he admits, almost whispering.

"Well once you start fixing your nutrition, you'll feel better. Remember Louis, food is fuel," the doctor replies. "Now I'm going to go get your nutritionist to set up the meal plan with you, and then we'll have you pick a therapist. After that, you can go home. Sound good?"

Louis nods and I squeeze his hand as the doctor leaves the room. "I'm so proud of you," I say, kissing the side of his forehead.

"Save that until I actually start eating again," Louis groans.

"Lou!" Liam and Niall shout, bursting in.

"You get to leave today, yeah?" Niall asks, handing him a balloon. It says 'Happy Birthday, Clara!' on it.

"Niall, please tell me you did not steal that balloon from a sick child," Louis giggles.

"No. They made too many for this girl, so they were giving them away for free," Liam says. "Though I wouldn't put it past Niall to steal from a child."

"Fuck off, wanker!" Niall says, shoving Liam lightly.

"So Louis is gonna do outpatient three times a week," I say, slowly guiding them back to the reason we're here. "He's gonna get on a meal plan today, so I was thinking we could take him to Tesco's after this to help him go shopping, yeah?"

"Yeah," Niall says, handing the balloon to Louis, who shoots him a dramatic smile.

"Sure," Liam replies, checking his phone. "I just have to meet with someone around 7."

"Who?" I ask, wrinkling my nose.

"Um, Zayn," Liam replies. We all stare at him with our jaws dropped.

"He just wants to apologize and give me some of my stuff back. Like the razor set and rings I let him bring with him to Milan," he says quickly.

"Well, mate, he can drop those off!" Niall says, wagging an eyebrow at him.

"I know but...." Liam starts.

"Yeah, or leave it at the office or one of us can go get it from him!" I chime in.

"I just want to see him... " Liam says, pausing to take a breath. "Let's just discuss it another time. Louis, you feeling better?"

"I'm okay. Please don't see him, Liam. It's just not smart," Louis responds. His face perks up and I can see that he's getting his sassy attitude back. Not that he ever really lost it... he just hasn't had much energy since he's been in the hospital.

"Hey, don't get stressed," I say, rubbing Lou's arm gently. It still freaks me out how bony it is.

"Oh, looks like your next doctor is here," Niall says, stepping towards the door. "We better head out. We'll meet you in the lobby, yeah? Then off to Tesco's."

Niall and Liam head out, and I get up to go with them, figuring he might want to do his meal plan by himself. But Louis squeezes my hand.

"Can you stay?" he asks quietly. "I'm like... fuck, sorry. This is all happening so fast. You don't have to. I know we were so distant before, and then I hit you... and now I just feel really attached to you and I don't know why because it's only been a few days and I.. I'm not making sense..."

I lock eyes with Louis and smile at him. "Shh," I coo, stroking his cheek with the back of my hand. "I feel attached to you too. And I know it's not been long, but we've known each other for a bit. I'm happy to stay."

"Okay," Louis replies, half-smiling.

"Alright, Louis," the nutritionist says, sitting down in the chair across from his bed. "So what have you been eating lately?"

Louis looks at me instead of the nutritionist as he answers. "Um, honestly, hardly anything. At first I was having like whole grains and vegetables and salads. Then, it got to the point where I was only having like one salad a day. Then just carrots. Then nothing..."

"Okay," the nutritionist says, jotting it down. "So the first thing I want to make clear is that we're going to ease you into this. We want your body to adapt, so we'll start with three meals a day, alright? And if we have to add more snacks down the road, we can."

Louis doesn't respond, but the woman continues. "So for each meal you'll need a starch, a fat and a carbohydrate. Fat doesn't make you fat. There are good fats like olive oil and avocado... So I have this list of options for each macro nutrient for each meal. For example, turkey on whole wheat with avocado. I also want you to try and have one dairy product a day. So milk or a yogurt...."

The nutritionist continues on and on, showing a bunch of different papers to Louis and I as she goes along. Right away, I can sense Louis getting emotional. His eyes are welling with tears and his nose little is getting red.

"Hey, can we stop for a sec?" I ask, wondering when this lady will realize how much she's overwhelming him. "Lou, you okay?"

"I honestly feel like I want to be sick right now," Louis sniffles. "This is too much. I don't think I can stomach all that..."

The nutritionist nods. "Well, we need you to try. All of our patients are scared, but if you don't do it...."

"It's gonna be okay, Lou," I interrupt before she can begin to threaten him with the consequences.

I can tell based on his flushed cheeks and shaking hands that he's terrified. "Can we have a minute alone?" I ask. The nutritionist nods and steps outside.

Without hesitating, I climb into Louis' bed and lay down next to him. "Listen to me," I say, stroking his hand. "I know it's scary. When they asked me to stop cutting, I thought: no fucking way. I can't... it seemed impossible. It was an addiction, I got a high from it. Kind of like you do when you skip a meal or do a workout, yeah? I thought I was going to die without it...."

"That's how I feel, yeah," Louis replies. "Like I can't make it without starving myself... I just can't. The voice is screaming at me."

"Here's the thing, Louis," I say, taking both of his hands in mind. They're cold, and his fingers are awfully bony, but I still love holding his hands

"I know it sounds crazy, but you've got to believe me," I continue. "The only way to silence that voice is to do the opposite of what it's telling you to do. For me it was not cutting, it was finding something else to do instead. For you it's not starving, eating again..."

Louis is crying now, sobbing onto my chest. We've both shed too many tears this past weekend. Niall and Liam too. But I don't mind one bit. It's an emotional time, a serious time, and we're all in this together.

"But I can't do it, I just can't," Louis whimpers, his shoulders bobbing up and down. "Do you think I want to be like this? Like if I had the choice, I would eat. I would... Trust me I fucking would, Harry."

"I know," I reply, hugging him closer. "I know. And I'm never gonna know what that feels like for you. What that pain is like, what you experience. But I do know how hard it is to overcome a behavior like that. It's so fucking hard, Louis. And you're not always gonna win every battle. But you have to fight. You have to try. Just try."

Louis stares at me, his blue eyes now a dull grey color. "I can't do it," he repeats.

"Louis," I say, taking a deep breath. "You can. I know you can. You know why? Because I fight, every fucking day I fight not to shred open my wrists or thighs or arms on the spot. At work I go in the bathroom and start crying, sobbing, just wanting to give in. But I don't. I call my therapist instead, or I go for a walk... fuck, Louis, it takes work. It takes time. But don't you tell me you can't do it because YOU can. I know it."

Louis blinks at me, silent. "I didn't know," he says quietly.

"Well now you do," I reply, squeezing his shoulder. "Do you think you can try?"

He nods. "I can try. But I make no promises."

"You don't have to promise me anything," I say, planting a kiss on his head. "Just have to try."

I wave for the nutritionist to come back in, and Louis asks her to go over the plan again, but this time slower. He asks her questions. He tells her which foods he thinks he can manage, which one he doesn't think he can.

The whole time, I'm smiling at him. Because he's actually listening to me for once. He wouldn't listen when I said I was sorry or that he was beautiful or that he was worthy. But he's listening to me now. He's doing it. He's actually trying.

A/N: Hello, hello. First off I want to thank each and every one of you for reading this! This story has really turned into a passion project and is very important to me personally, as I've struggled with the same things Louis is struggling with. I hope this story can bring light to eating disorders (as well as self harm/depression and other mental illnesses) and help those who are struggling to feel a little less alone. I am also hoping you guys LIKE the story - I tried to start off with a disagreeable Harry and have his character develop over time so we can see what he's really like and what his motives are. Louis' mindset, while super dark and angsty, is what happens to your mind in the depths of an ED, and I think as he recovers we'll see him start to change a bit and the old Louis will resurface. Anyways, I totally forgot about Eliza but one of my lovely readers reminded me (thank you!) so she will definitely be popping up soon, as you can tell based on this chapter. Same with Zayn... he is not off the hook just yet. Sorry for how emotional this ended up being. I surprised even myself.... but Lou needed that pep talk!

Also.... as you can see, the updates are going to be fast as fuck. I have off the whole summer mostly so I plan on posting a ton. Also feel free to message me if you have any questions or just want to chat. Always open to chat!


	17. discomfort

Feb 24

Louis' POV

I nearly have a breakdown in the fucking grocery store when we get there.

My mind has been nothing but cloudy since the hospital — fuck it, it's probably been cloudy since the day I started this diet. But I really felt especially out of it in the hospital. It wasn't until the third day that I even began to feel a semblance of sanity, and even then my thoughts were pretty noisy and hard to follow.

Im not even sure if I can explain what my problem is. I guess Whenever I think about food, it's like I have a voice in my head screaming at me not to eat. It's just not just a replay of Harry's voice and comments like it used to be in the beginning - it's a real physical voice saying "no, don't have that, it'll make you fat!" Or "go do 100 sit-ups to make up for that." The doctors asked me if I was experiencing that type of stuff and of course I lied, but I guess I wasn't too good at hiding it because they diagnosed me anyways.

Diagnosis. Fuck that word. I hate the fucking sound of that. If you told me a few days ago that I had an eating disorder I would have laughed in your face and said I was perfectly fine. But when they showed me how bad my vitals were and I found out I had a fucking seizure, I knew that things were serious.

Im Not stupid. I knew I took things too far with the diet. The minute I couldn't bring myself to eat the fish and chips in the restaurant with Niall, I knew I was in a bad place. I knew I had lost control.

Control. That's what this whole thing was about to begin with, according to the therapist I was forced to talk to. I wanted to take control of my appearance after what Harry said, so much so that it turned into an obsession. It was never about Harry or my weight or any of it really. I just felt out of control with my job and family and life in general, and my weight was just one more issue that put me over the edge. I figured if I could at least control that, I would be doing something right.

Or at least that's the way she explained it to me in the hospital. I'm still not fucking sure what happened to me. I just know I was called fat and went from eating fish and chips to salads to nothing at all. And changed from exercising twice a week to twice a day.

I didn't realize how sick it could make me. I realized I was losing weight, fuck I was keeping track of it. And I experienced joint pain and I went through dizzy spells and I saw my hair fall out in the shower.

I guess deep down I knew it was because I wasn't eating, but I just kept making excuses. Stress. Not enough sleep. A coincidence.

It was never a coincidence though. Never.

But after a while, it didn't matter. It was an obsession, and it sucked me in like a black fucking hole. I was spiraling, and after just a few weeks, the thought of even eating a morsel of bread sickened me to my core.

The whole time though, I thought I was doing something right. I thought I was bettering myself, purifying myself even. I thought I was on top of the world, but eventually I came crashing down, hitting past my lowest point and nosediving to rock bottom.

Within this whole mess, my relationships got extremely fucked up as well. I started lashing out at everyone, especially Harry, who's the one that caused this entire situation.

Don't even fucking ask me what crossed my mind when I fucked Harry. I can honestly tell you I wasn't thinking. Not at all. It was pure instinct that took over when I decided to have sex with him, and I'm not even ashamed about it.

I've been thinking about harry for a while, ever since our dance in the night club. I know I'm supposed to hate him, and technically a part of him still does, but the more intimate I've gotten with him, the more I've begun to latch onto him like a leach. And now I can't let go.

It's extremely fucked up, how the very person who tormented me and made me sick in the first place is now the one helping me recover. But he's so similar to me - he's suffered so much and been through hell and back and he's still here. As cliche as it sounds, it kind of gives me hope. Like Maybe if he can do it I can do it too.

The key word there is maybe.

Maybe. Because the voices are still so fucking Strong. I was just on my death bed earlier and I should start trying to eat, but all I can focus on is how many calories are in everything and how fat it'll make me. Is it really worth getting fat? Maybe I shouldn't recover after all....

But as Niall smiles and hands me a box of whole grain rice to take a look at, I know I have to. There's all these people who care about me and don't want to see me... well, die. Because death is a huge possibility, as I've learned the hard way.

"Hey, mate. Does this look tasty?" Niall asks eagerly. I force a smile. I know he's trying to help, but I don't think he understands that nothing seems even remotely appetizing me right now, let alone tasty.

"Um, yeah," I say, flipping over the box to check the ingredients and calories.

Harry comes up from behind me and takes the box from my hands gently. "Hey, why dont you go pick a few things yourself, yeah?"

"Okay," I say with a shrug. I head down the aisle, my head spinning as I try to sort through the hundreds of options before me. Eventually, I panic and return with the first two things I could find that didn't scare me entirely: oatmeal and a few apples.

Liam and Niall shrug and smile at me. "Cool, looks Good," Liam says.

I nod, pretending I'm actually going to eat that shit. The oatmeal, maybe. But the apples have way too much sugar. I had just been trying to find something healthy and semi normal.

"Hey," Harry says, whispering into my ear. His voice vibrates against my neck and I shudder. "Do you want a break? Seem overwhelmed."

Well if I wasn't before I am now. Harry has been touching me a lot over the past few days. Hugging me, kissing my forehead, holding my hand. I assumed he was doing all that to make me feel safe and protected, though. Not to be romantic. But now he's being sexy, gripping my waist and kissing my neck slowly behind the aisle.

I don't even really know what's going on between us currently. Harry just admitted his feelings for me a couple of days ago, but I haven't said anything about how I feel. I don't know how I feel, honestly.

I just know I'm attracted to him, physically and emotionally, and that he's probably the only thing getting me through this whole health scare right now. But I don't know if I like him the way he likes me.... I don't know anything.... I don't even know what's going on in this fucked up head of mine.

"Oh, hey," I say, pushing Harry's head back a little. "Sorry, i just... i think we need to talk a bit about what's going on between us. I just, so much has gone on, and I know we fucked, and I appreciate that you're helping me. I just feel confused..."

Harry turns to me, nodding slowly as his green eyes glitter beneath the fluorescent lighting. "Oh my god, Louis. So sorry about that... I know, it's too fast. And now is not a good time..."

"No," I say. "I mean, I am down for you. I want to kiss, I just don't know where my head is at.... I just... I feel lost...."

"Hey, What's going on mates?" Liam asks, rounding the corner. Harry's hands are still on my waist and he pulls them away quickly, shoving them into his pockets as Liam shoots him a dirty look.

"Harry, you shouldn't touch him like that! He doesn't like it, it even says it in the pamphlet. Do you really think he's ready for romance, the way he is?" Liam snaps, pointing at me.

"I'm sorry, what?" I say, my brow furrowing. "I'm right fucking here, Liam. Don't talk about me like a fucking child, or a patient. I've had enough of that over the past few days and I'll tell you right now I'm sick of it..."

"Lou, it's okay," Harry interjects.

"It's not okay," I growl. "Do Not talk about the pamphlet or my condition or any of it like I'm some kind of charity case. I heard the doctors loud and clear, and I'm gonna take care of this. And Liam, for your information, I'm more than capable of making my own decisions when it comes to romance. What happens between me and Harry stays between us."

"Alright," Liam says, taking a step back. "You're completely right, I'm sorry for getting involved. I won't mention anything."

"Thank you," I say, shooting him a forced smile. "Now let's go get that Greek yogurt everyone has been raving about."

Liam and Harry nod and follow me, dumbfounded. What did they expect though? After being treated like a fucking newborn for the past few days, I've been aching for at least a little bit of agency. There's a difference between helping me and mothering me.... and I want to make it fucking clear to them that just because I'm sick, It doesn't mean I'm incapable.

"You okay?" Niall asks, turning me around in the yogurt aisle. "I saw what happened."

I nod, but suddenly feel so enraged, like everyone is watching my every move - just like nurses were in the hospital.

"Niall, thanks for checking in," I say. "I'm good. I just really feel like I need some space after being stuck in the hospital."

"No worries mate!" Niall says. "The yogurt is the last thing on the list, then we can check out and head home."

"Okay, awesome," i reply. But as I look at the grocery cart filled to the brim with fattening food I feel anything but awesome.

How the fuck am I going to manage any of that?

A little while later, we bag up my groceries and head to Liam's car. Niall sits in the passenger seat and Harry and I sit in the back. I can tell he's trying extra hard not to touch me.

"Harold," I say, rolling my eyes. "Don't make this weird."

"Make what weird?" He asks, widening his eyes as if he's surprised.

"You know. Hey, Niall And Liam. I know you know too. We fucked. I fucked Harry and I don't know about you, Harold, but I quite liked it. Now, there, it's out in the open. Can we just move past it?" I grumble.

Niall and Liam start to giggle. "Okay, We did know. Harry told us."

I glare at Harry. "Nice going," I mutter.

"I'm sorry!" Harry says, defensively. "I didn't mean to..."

"It's fine," I say. "I don't care. Everyone knows now. Harry and I will figure it out. We'll keep you posted, sound good?"

"Yup," Niall replied, turning around and locking eyes with me.

"Cool," I say. I find myself getting sleepy and naturally want to rest my head on Harry's shoulder, but that's a couple kind of thing to do isn't it? Maybe I shouldn't do that after I just rejected him in the store....

Jesus. I have a lot to think about.


	18. distractions

Feb 24

Harry's POV

"Hey, so um..."

I close my mouth, biting my tongue as I try to think of what to say. I sound so fucking awkward, but what am I supposed to do in this situation? What are any of us supposed to do?

Louis just got told he's basically dying and won't get better unless he follows this meal plan. I obviously want to make sure he fucking follows it - so do Niall and Liam. The thing is, our help is the last thing in the world Louis seems to want right now.

When we were at the grocery story, he snapped on Liam about treating him like a child and not giving him any independence. I understand that, I truly do. But Louis has proven that he's pretty much helpless on his own. He couldn't even get a few bites of chicken down in the hospital. How is he going to do it at home, unattended?

"What?" Louis asks, crossing his arms and looking up at me as I stutter.

"I don't know, I just want you to promise me you're going to try. Like we talked about. And you can always call me or Niall or Liam if you need something. You got that, right? And Liam will come with you on Monday to your first appointment, too," I babble.

Louis looks at me, his bright blue eyes contrasting sharply with the purple circles beneath them. His pale skin is so taught against his face that it looks like it's painful for him to even smile.

"Yes to all of it. I got this Harry, truly," Louis says, almost too enthusiastically.

"I'm just so worried," I admit, biting my lip. I take a seat on the stool next to the kitchen counter. "I really care about you."

"I care about you too," Louis replies, taking a seat next to me. "At least I think I do. I'm still a bit angry -- at everyone. Sorry I snapped in the store... and in the car. I just feel so under pressure. And I can't think clearly. Sorry if you thought I was ready for more, I'm just not."

I grab Louis hand, quickly making eye contact with him to see if he's okay with that. "No, no. I'm sorry for rushing stuff. I know our relationship started horribly. I traumatized you. It might not even be a good idea to move forward."

Louis squeezes my hand back and shakes his head. "No, it could be.... but I have my health to sort out. You have the Eliza thing. Maybe it's best to keep the romance to a minimum until it's like... taken care of."

Fuck. Eliza. I had completely forgotten about her.

"Yeah," I reply, pushing some loose curls out of my eyes. "Yeah, you're right."

"It's funny," Louis says, pointing to the counter. "This is exactly where we were sitting when I decided I hated you a little bit less. When you told me that story about Eliza..."

"Is it now?" I ask, startled. "That wasn't an attempt to win you over, I was just sharing."

Louis laughs, though he looks more in pain than anything else. "I know, I know. But it was the first time I saw you... vulnerable. It humanized you a bit."

"I can come off as an asshole. In fact, most times it's my fault that I do," I say. "But I struggle underneath too. We all do, I guess."

Still holding my hands, Louis nods and scoots his seat closer to me. "We do. Liam is upset about Zayn. Niall is stressed with work... did you know the business might go under? That's why he was so obsessed with that Pret project. It's their biggest client. You have your kid, and your... Eliza. I have my eating disorder. We're all fucked up in one way or another."

The business might go under? Holy shit. Now I feel like an asshole for cancelling that presentation. I had no idea it was so important to Niall.

"Yeah, no one is perfect," I reply. Louis looks at my mouth, but when he notices me watching him, his eyes flick away to the floor.

"Sorry," he says. "I really wanna kiss you right now. I just..."

"It's okay," I reply, stroking his back. "I get it."

Louis nods and then hops up, heading over to the fridge. I watch in amusement as he takes out an apple and carefully begins to wash it.

"It's half six so I guess I should have that snack," Louis says hurriedly.

"Oh, okay, sorry if I'm holding up your schedule," I reply, positioning myself next to him at the counter.

"No, no," Louis says, standing on his tip toes and looking up at me. He's wearing this ridiculously baggy jumper and joggers that are two sizes too big. "I was actually wondering if you would eat with me. I just... feel weird eating alone."

"Yeah, of course," I say, smiling at him. "What are we having. Apple with peanut butter?"

Louis nods and I head to the fridge to take another apple. I'm not particularly hungry, but this is going to help Louis and it's the very least I can do.

After taking a paring knife out of the drawer, Louis washes the apple and then begins to chop it into perfectly symmetrical slices. He does the same with my apple and then grabs a spoon, putting exactly two table spoons of peanut butter on each plate.

"Great, thank you," I say, taking my plate over to the counter.

Louis nods and sits down next to me staring at the plate as if it contained pigs brains.

Oh fuck. I forgot how hard this was for him.

To help encourage him, I take an apple slice and dip it into the peanut butter. "It's pretty good," I say with a convincing smile.

"Yeah," Louis says. He takes an apple slices and starts to eat it plain without the peanut butter.

I continue dipping and eating my slices, watching Louis discreetly through the corner of my eye. He's eating the apples, but avoiding the peanut butter at all costs.

"Lou...." I begin, turning to him. I put a hand on his shoulder and he nearly jumps out of his skin.

"I know!" he shouts. "I know I'm supposed to eat the peanut butter. It's a healthy fat. But it has so many calories, and I used to eat so much peanut butter back when I was fat... maybe I should have gotten almond butter or cashew butter.... or fuck, which one is healthiest? I didn't have enough time..."

"Okay," I say, standing up. "Take a breath, Louis. Just take a minute here, okay."

Louis nods and pushes his plate away, burying his face in his hands as he breathes. "I am so fucking fucked up. This isn't normal."

I rub his back gently, making soothing 'shhh' sounds as I do so. "It's okay. Not your fault. This is what happens sometimes. You might get anxious, but it's okay."

After a couple of minutes, Louis wipes his nose on his sleeve.

"Okay," he begins. "Seriously, I get how people who have been like this for years and years can't eat. But I've only been sick two months... how did it get this bad?"

I shrug my shoulders, wishing I had an answer for him.

"I don't know, honey... er.... Louis," I reply. "Sometimes it just progresses quickly. But something that helped me was a distraction. Maybe you could try watching TV or just talking to me as you eat so you're not alone with your thoughts."

Louis nods. "I guess I could try that. Okay, talk to me."

"Well, at work, we're currently working with another restaurant called Hillstone," I say, watching as Louis applies a small dab of peanut butter to his apple slice. "And it's pretty bougie so we have to make it sound sophisticated."

Louis nods, popping the apple in his mouth and chewing slowly.

"It's kind of crazy because I used to write for a luxury magazine way back in the day. So I found some of my old work and I think it really fits their style. You should look at it too, for a more objective point of view. I don't know. I prefer to write with a humorous tone, but that isn't for everyone...."

I continue to babble for what feels like an eternity until Louis pushes away his plate. He ate all of the apple and about 3/4 of the peanut butter, and honestly, I would ask him to finish it, but I don't want to upset him. I know how hard it was for him to even do that. Baby steps.

"Thanks," Louis says, grabbing a water bottle. "That really did help. I still heard the voice, but I was so enthralled by your story I began to forget about it. Also, yeah I'll look at those papers. I hate fancy shit too, but sometimes it's what pays the bills. Right, baby daddy?"

"Ouch," I say, following Louis to the sink to put the dishes away. "Sassy now, are we?"

Louis laughs. "Maybe. I actually do feel a lot better from eating that."

Without even thinking, I come up behind him, grabbing his waist gently and resting my chin on his shoulder. As I realize what I've done, I jump backwards. "Ah, sorry!" I say.

"No, it's okay," Louis says. "It's getting hard to resist you too.... I was being flirty. I dunno, Harry. Thanks for helping me through. Sometimes I feel like we're so much more alike than I ever imagined."

"We are," I say, still standing several feet away from him. "But we're also different."

"Well, yeah, because I never fucked a girl," Louis snorts. "And I don't plan to."

"That's fine," I reply, butterflies filling my stomach. "I think I'm past that phase of my life too."

Louis takes a step closer. "I really want to fuck you right now. Again. Is that bad?"

I cock my head to the side, biting my lip.

No, I want to say. No, it's fine. In fact, it's perfect.

But I don't.

"Lou, we shouldn't. You told me before we shouldn't. I really want to too," I tell him, stroking his hair gently. It's so brittle it feels hard to the touch, and suddenly I don't feel so turned on anymore. He's so sick.... he's dying.

"We have to work on ourselves, Lou," I continue. "Like you said before."

Louis nods, slinking away from my touch. "Yeah, I guess I just got emotional. I just - this is gonna sound fucked up, but I didn't know that the same person who tore me down was the very person who could help build me back up again."

I stare at him, trying to decipher the distant look in his sapphire eyes. But I can't figure it out - all I can think about is how I'm a monster. I tore him down, and even if I do build him back up, I never will forgive myself.

"I'm so sorry I hurt you," I say, my voice hoarse with emotion.

"Harry- you don't have to go through this again. In fact, I really want you to stop. It just upsets me," Louis says, raising an eyebrow. "It's not about you hurting me. That's in the past... this was never about you. It was about me. Me and my control problems. I'm tired of you blaming yourself. Your comment was the straw the broke the camel's back - there were tons of things that led up to this."

I nod. I know this. We've been through this conversation before in the hospital. But how the fuck can I stop feeling guilty? Even if it wasn't entirely my fault, it was partially. And I don't want to be the reason for Louis' pain on any level, even a small one.

"Okay, okay, you're right," I say, calmly. "Let's not talk about it. What are you going to do tomorrow?"

Louis shrugs, and I grab my coat off the nearby wrack. I have to get back to my apartment to submit an article that's due around midnight.

"I guess just sit around and watch TV. Write a little. Eat. I can't workout anymore," he says, looking at the floor.

"That sounds relaxing, it's good to let your body rest and repair," I reply.

"I know. Logically. Inside my head, it's a warzone right now though. I can't sit still. But I'm glad I finally can. Every step on the treadmill was hurting by the end of it," he admits.

I extend my arms, pulling Louis in for a hug. "Hey, love. I know it's tough. But you'll get through it, yeah? And me and the guys are here WHENEVER. I think Liam is stopping by tomorrow. He can eat lunch with you if that makes it easier."

"Yeah, I'll ask him if it's not too much trouble," Louis says, his face lighting up a bit.

"It's never too much trouble, for any of us," I reply, planting a kiss on his head.

"Not even gonna lie, Styles, that got me hard. Fuck," Louis replies, laughing.

I shake my head, rolling my eyes and Louis giggles. He's so sick, though, that even when he's happy, he still looks like he's in pain. It breaks my heart.

"Okay," I say, giving him one last hug. "Leaving."

"Bye," Louis calls, closing the door behind me.

I step out into the hall, feeling a mixture of sadness and pity and excitement, and click the button for the elevator.

I'm just about to step inside when I get a phone call. I don't think anything of it, but then I check the contact name.

Oh my god.

It's Eliza.


	19. lunch

Feb 25

So in the other chapter Harry said he was gonna take Lou to the doctor but I decided I wanted it to be Liam... so I changed it. Sorry!

Louis' POV

It's around 12:30pm when Liam arrives.

"Hey," I say, opening the door and leading him inside. "How are you?"

"Good," Liam replies. He's all dressed up in his work clothes - grey slacks and a white collared shirt - and he's holding a bag from Pret.

"Oh, what's that?" I ask, swallowing thickly.

"Oh, the sandwiches. Remember, I texted you last night about what you wanted? You said turkey and avocado on wheat, right?" Liam says, unbagging the food. "And I got us yogurt cups too, as the dairy product for the meal."

I jerk my head forward, nodding robotically. "Yeah, yeah, right. I guess I kind of forgot."

"No worries," Liam says. He grabs two paper plates from the cabinet and sets them down.

I shrug, trying to ignore the nervousness wracking my body as Liam takes a bite of his sandwich. I guess I'm supposed to be eating mine too.... but the voice is so s t r o n g.

It's been strong ever since I got home, honestly. I also realized something horrible: the voice isn't just there when I'm eating, it's there after too. In fact, it's probably worse after because of the guilt I feel when the food is sitting there in my stomach.

I first notice this yesterday when I broke down crying the minute Harry left. At first, I didn't know why I was so upset. But then the thoughts began to fill my mind the same way the food had filled my stomach. And I started thinking about How the peanut butter was making me fatter by the second. How I had to go downstairs to the gym to burn it off. How I was stupid for believing them when they told me I was sick - I wasn't sick. I was fat. So fat...

I called Harry about a half hour later. It was so fucking embarrassing. He was literally just at my house, and had been at the hospital with me all weekend. He probably just wanted a break of me. But of course I had to be a burden. Of course I couldn't take care of myself.

I promised Liam and Niall that I could be independent. That I would handle this. But here I was, crying over a fucking spoonful of peanut butter.

"Hello? Louis, are you okay?" Harry asked, a hint of surprise breaking through his usual monotone.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," I said quickly. "I um, just had a question. I guess I could have texted you... feel stupid now for calling because you were just here."

"No, it's totally fine," Harry replied. "I like to hear the sound of your voice."

I'm pretty sure I blushed when he said that. Did he really? The sound of my voice. I had been always been told it was high pitched and irritating.

"Thanks," I said, coughing a bit. "I, um. Just honestly having a real time dealing with this guilt. I feel the urge to go to the gym to burn this off and I keep pacing around like a mad man. Eating is only half the battle... now I have to like, not burn it off."

"Right, that's tough," Harry says. His voice deepens a bit and I hear the faint sound of a woman's voice in the background. That's odd, though. It's probably just the television.

"I remember doing that. Pacing around just wishing I had an object sharp enough..." Harry continues. "I still do that sometimes. It sucks, I know. You just need something to take your mind off it. Writing, maybe. Or Netflix. Maybe even window shopping. Anything you like do."

I bit my lip, thinking about the options. My head had been so muddled lately that writing had begun to feel like a chore.

"I guess I'll try Netflix. Anything you recommend?" I asked.

"Shameless," Harry replied automatically. "It's a dram-edy. Drama, comedy. Right up your alley. You'll love it."

"Okay," I said. "Thanks. For everything, Harry really."

Harry paused for a minute and the voice I heard before got louder. Holy shit... was it... her?

"You're welcome, Lou," Harry said after a while. "I'm always here to help. Sorry, I just have to take care of something. But I hope you like the show. Text me if you need anything else."

"Right, of course," I replied flatly.

What else did he have to take care of though? His baby mama's pussy?

"Bye, honey," Harry said. Then he clicked off the phone, leaving mysteries swirling around in my head and nausea dancing in my stomach.

Now, as Liam sits next to me at the counter, I can't help but wonder if he knows something about Harry. Maybe I'm just paranoid, but all of this is seeming a little too good to be true if you ask me. Harry was the one who hurt me so badly and caused this mess. Is it really a coincidence that he's also the one helping to repair the damage?

Sometimes people just want a clean conscience so they can move past the guilt... When I get better, will be still be holding my hand and kissing my neck? Or will he be right back where he started with Eliza?

"Lou, are you gonna eat?" Liam asks. His voice interrupts my conspiracy theories, and I force a nod and smile.

"Yup," I say, taking my sandwich out of the bag. As soon as I look at the size of it, I want to toss it directly in the garbage. It's way too much food. And then a yogurt on top of that? No.

I manage a small bite, and notice that Liam is nearly done with his. "Sorry to be slow," I say.

"No worries. We still have an hour before your appointment," Liam says cheerily.

Does he know that it's been taking me a full hour to finish my meals - sometimes even more?

Not that I really have been following my meal plan lately... I mean I have been trying. I promised Harry I would try and I really am. But some of the meals are just too overwhelming and I have to adapt them. Like macaroni and cheese. Fat and carbs? I ended up having rice noodles instead....

I know I'm not supposed to do that. They specifically said not to alter the meal plan. But I've been on it for only two days, and I could hardly stomach any of the full meals that they put down. It was better than nothing.

"So, how are things going?" I ask, trying to take my mind off the myriad of thoughts attacking my mind.

"They're okay," Liam says, taking a spoonful of his yogurt. I try not to wince as I think about how I have to have one too. "I met with Zayn after all. You guys were right. I know I shouldn't have. But I got closure. He was never in Milan at all. He was doing projects all over, mostly here in London. It's fucked up but at least I know the truth. He's a cheater and a liar. Good luck to whoever gets with him next."

"That's awful," I reply. "You really are better off without him. I'm glad you got closure.... you didn't fuck him though did you?...."

"I did," Liam admits, wincing a bit. "It'll be the last time ever though. I'm done with him."

I wrinkle my nose, trying to force down the rest of my sandwich while my mind is still somewhat quiet. "Aw, Li. Well I won't judge you for that. I get it's complicated, but yeah never again."

"Yeah," Liam says, shifting in his seat uncomfortably. "I should probably get tested after all that. We always used protection, but I still feel dirty. Knowing all the guys he slept with after he left my place..."

I nod and toss away the crusts of my sandwich. Ends aside, I'm pretty much done with it.

"Yeah, he was a sleeze bag," I reply. I had only met Zayn twice, and I remember walking away both times with a bad impression. He was rude, overbearing and narcissistic, always shoving his modeling career down our throats.

"I made 4,000 pounds on the last photo shoot," he boasted over a glass of Whiskey the first night I saw him. "Good looks really do pay off."

"They sure do," Liam replied, kissing him gingerly on the cheek.

"You should get Liam a gig then, yeah?" I said with a smile. "He's good looking too."

Zayn shrugged, taking a sip of his drink. "Maybe. Not sure Li has what it takes. It's a hell of a lifestyle."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Just not sure he has the chops for it," Zayn replied, squeezing Liam's cheek. "I still love you though, Li. You're my little businessman."

Ugh. Thinking back on it, Zayn was way worse than I remembered. Purely conceited and constantly belittling Liam. No wonder Liam was always so mopey all the time during their relationship.

"Yup," Liam says, handing me my yogurt. "We have ten more minutes to finish. I don't want to rush you, though."

I nod, understandingly. "Yeah, yeah, it's fine. Thanks for coming to this appointment by the way. I don't really wanna go alone."

"Sure," Liam replies as he throws his trash away. "I also wanted to apologize again for that comment about the pamphlets and the diagnosis and all that. I shouldn't just treat you like a kid. I'm here to support you, not baby you."

"Thanks," I reply, smiling. I'm glad he knows he fucked up. What he said wasn't okay. And he's right. I don't need to be babied.

Though if I am being honest with myself, sometimes I want to be. Sometimes I just wish someone was here to hold me and watch TV with me and tell me it's going to be okay. That I'm going to stop obsessing about food and exercise. That the thoughts will grow quieter. That I will get my life back.

And I don't just want someone to do those things... I want Harry.

"I appreciate it," I say, taking a spoonful of yogurt. I instantly feel overtaken by anxiety as I realize how thick and rich it is. It's so filling - and the last thing I want is to be stuffed right now. I already feel pretty full.

I put the yogurt down and push it away. "Sorry, I just can't. I feel too full."

Liam raises an eyebrow, looking over at the opened container. "Okay.... well, maybe try? I don't really know what to say..."

I shrug. "I mean I should it eat, I guess. And I can. It'll just make me really uncomfortable and anxious."

"Well isn't the recovery process all about pushing past discomfort?" Liam asks. We lock eyes, and I feel my cheeks grow hot. Why is he talking to me like I'm a fucking idiot?

"Yeah," I say, clearing away the trash. "It's just hard for me to explain what it feels like. Like for me feeling full is the equivalent of setting my hand on fire. Unbearable. I just... I don't know Liam. I'm not finishing it. Okay. I'm gonna tell the nutritionist this meal plan was too much."

Liam nods, though he doesn't look all too convinced. "Okay. But they may make you do inpatient if you can't do it."

I turn on my heel, my face darkening as I stare at Liam. "Is that a threat?"

"What, no," he says. "It's just... they could. You're sick enough..."

"Wow," I scoff. "Okay, Liam. Well you're not my doctor so you don't know that. And also, no one can force me into inpatient as an adult. It's my decision. Can't you just have a little faith in me? I'm trying my fucking best."

"I know," Liam says. "Okay, sorry. I'm not good at this. I really don't know how to help. It seems like every time I try, I just make you mad."

"You make me mad because you're telling me what to do and you're telling me what's going to happen and explaining the consequences," I snap. "I'm not a child Liam. Okay. I know the consequences. And if you were inside my head right now, you would know the fucking battlefield I'm trying to fight through right now. And let me tell you, just getting that sandwich down was trouble enough....And even once it's down. I'm not done fighting, because then I have to resist the incessant urge to exercise and burn it all off."

"Wow, okay... I had no idea that's what was going on," Liam stammers.

"Yeah," I reply. "You don't. Because they don't put that in the pamphlet. They just say weak bones, hair loss, etc. They don't tell you about the shit going on the inside."

"Yeah, that sounds... truly unbearable," Liam says, rubbing his face with his hand. "I'm so sorry you're going through that."

"Don't be," I say, rolling my eyes. "Let's just go to the doctor's so we can see if I'm getting any better. Liam, you don't have to do anything special with me. Just talk to me, tell me what's going on. All I need right now is to be distracted. That's what Harry does. Distracts me."

"Oh, Harry," Liam says. I nod and grab the keys so we can head out. "What's going on with him?"

I shrug, a coy smile creeping across my lips. Maybe he understands this distraction thing better than I thought.

"We're into each other," I reply. "Maybe when we sort our shit out something will go down."

"Sounds like you like each other. He speaks so highly of you. Thinks you're gorgeous and intelligent and eloquent - and a million other adjectives," Liam giggles.

"Really now?" I reply as we head to the elevator. "With language like that, maybe his next poem will be about me...."

"Maybe it will be," Liam says.

We wait for the elevator to reach the lobby, and then step outside, heading to the last place I want to go to, but the only place that can help me. The hospital.


	20. strength

Feb 25

Trigger warning: cutting / self harm / homophobia

WE FINALLY FIND OUT AB ELIZA

Harry's POV

"Fuck," I mutter to myself. I'm standing in the hospital bathroom, splashing my face with water for the second time today. But no matter how much I try to calm myself down, nothing helps.

I stare at my face in the mirror, trying to convince myself I'm okay. But the truth is the dark circles under my eyes are the least of my worries. My real concern is about the demons that lie inside me, the ones that are currently raging through my head and telling me that I should just end it all right now. Because I can't do this. I can't fucking do this.

I can't do. But I have no other choice, do I?

Straightening myself up, I take a deep breath and walk out of the door and back to the waiting room. A nurse walks past and I grab her shoulder without thinking.

"Any news?" I ask, biting my lip.

"Sit down, jitters," she says, rolling her eyes. "This is the third time you've asked me that in the past hours. Like I told you the other two times, I'll let you know as soon as I hear of something. From the looks of it, it's going to be a while."

"Okay," I say with a nod, walking back to my seat. There's a bunch of newspapers all of it, and a couple of snack wrappers from the vending machine. The nurses keep telling me to go get some real food in the cafeteria - that I have plenty of time. But I don't want to go. What if something happens?

I fold my legs up and stare at the newspaper blankly. I've read the newspaper a million times and I could easily look up news on my phone, but I don't want to touch my phone right now. No one knows I'm here, and I want to keep it that way.

Sometimes I wonder how I'm not in the hospital too. I'm so fucked up in the head right now that I can't even think straight. All I can focus on is her words - her awful, horrible words.

"Harry, how the fuck are you going to be a father? Are you going to show up to the hospital in a female's clothes?"

"I hope my kid gets none of your genes. You're such a fuckup, Harry."

"You call yourself a writer..... everything you write sucks. So cheesy. Grow up, Harold."

"Why do you think your father doesn't talk to you, Harry? Because you're a fucking twink. Your dad doesn't want to know you're taking it in the bum...."

She said all that. Over and over, on multiple occasions. Until it was ingrained in my head, tattooed to the edges of my brain, written on the inside of my skull.

It takes everything in me not to cry right now as I replay the thoughts. I start to wonder if maybe she is right. Maybe I should just go home, get out of here. I'll never be the father my son needs.

My son.

She told me yesterday. She told me the gender - and I'll never forget it.

"Hey," she said, breathing heavily into the speaker phone. "Never in a million years would I call you, but I need a favor."

"Yeah?" I replied, nearly choking on my gum.

"I went to the doctor yesterday. There's a complication and I have to do an emergency C-section. Even though it's a month early. They said it's the only way to make sure he's delivered ok...." she began.

"H-him?" I stammered. It was a boy? Holy shit.

"Yes, fucktard," he breathed. "The child you wanted to kill. It's a boy. And listen, I would never ask you this, but you're the only one I know who has this much money. I'm not on health insurance - I never was - I had been paying for the appointments out of pocket, but now that I'm not working...."

"I'll pay it," I replied. "I'll pay for the surgery."

There was silence on the other end. At first, I wondered if she didn't expect me to say yes. But I knew she knew. Of course she knew I would say yes.

"What's the catch?" she finally replied.

"There's no catch," I replied. "I just want to see him... sometimes."

"That's the catch, Harold," she groaned. "We talked about this. We fucking talked about this, Harry. You're so fucked up. You know my brother told me he saw you cutting yourself in the beach house two summers ago.... you're crazy."

I nearly dropped the phone. "What the fuck? That's not true."

"He got photos," she growled. "You're sick. You always were. Your cross dressing, the nail polish. I should have knew your problems stemmed even deeper."

My fingers curled around the screen and I was surprised when the phone didn't crack in half.

"I don't give a fuck because I don't do that anymore," I spat. "And even if I did, it doesn't mean I can't be a father. I'm more than capable and I don't have to prove myself."

"So you're going to let him die?" she asked, her voice thick with angst.

"I'm not. I'm giving you the money," I said.

Eliza took a deep breath. "But I'm saying you can't see him, are you okay with that?"

"I will see him," I said coolly.

"You won't," she interjected.

I resisted the urge to throw my phone against the wall, and instead, kicked the brick wall next to me. This fucking whore.

"Well neither of us will if he's dead, so I'm going to give you the fucking money, Eliza!" I shouted. 

"Okay," she replied. "But don't expect to see him.... and do not come to the hospital."

"You're a fucking raging cunt, do you know that?" I breathed. "And it's my son and we will be taking that to court as soon as possible. So don't think you can manipulate me like this, you homophobic piece of trash!"

"You'll lose in court once I show them those pictures," she sneered.

"First off, that's invasion of fucking privacy, so you can't show those photos in court," I snapped. "Second off, even if you were somehow able to, I have records to show I've been going to therapy for years and made progress. So fuck off."

"Good luck," she sighed. "You're just in denial. You don't know how badly you're gonna lose."

"So who do I write the check to?"

"You'll make an awful father."

"WHO do I write the check to?"

"Miriam Prenatal Hospital."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"When's your surgery?"

"Tomorrow at 2pm."

"I'll be there."

"You won't--"

"I said I'm gonna fucking be there, Eliza. Shut the fuck up."

"James."

"What?"

"I'm naming him James."

"Perfect. I love it."

"Fuck you. You told me a kid name James used to bully you and now you hate the name."

"Well now I love it. Goodbye, Eliza."

She hung up on me. Understandably so.

Now, as I sit in the hospital - the hospital I'm not supposed to be in - I just want to throw up all over my shoes. I said so much back there. I finally stood up to her. I finally put her in her fucking place.

But when it actually comes down to it, do I have the action to back it all up?

I'm not sure I do.

I'm not sure about anything. I'm not sure that I'll be a good father. I'm not sure I'll win in court. I'm not sure Louis will be okay. I'm not sure if he'll still like me after this whole Eliza thing. I'm not sure I'll ever talk to my dad again. I'm not sure of any of it.

And it's killing me inside - fucking killing me, shredding my insides to a painful pulp as I struggle to release each breath.

I can't do this. I can't fucking do this.

The words repeat in my head like a mantra, and soon enough I start to believe it.

My hands are shaking and my heart is racing and there's only one thing I know that can stop the torture.

Taking a deep breath, I reach for my keys and head to the bathroom, disgusted by what I'm about to, but knowing there's no other option.

Just as I get into the bathroom stall and ready myself for the first cut, my phone rings.

"Hey, Harry. I know you're at work but I need your help!"

It's Liam. Liam, what the fuck does he want?

"Yeah, yeah, what? Kinda busy," I mumble, pulling my sleeve back down and taking a seat on the toilet. I play with the key in my hands, running my fingers over the jagged groove. It's not very sharp, but that just means I have to apply more force.

"So Louis just had like a breakdown in the doctor's office," Liam begins, his voice shaking a bit. "I don't know - I've never seen him like this. He's been snappy with me a bunch lately, but this was next level.... he threw the nutritionist's clipboard and cursed at the doctor and ran out...."

"Oh fuck," I say, sitting up. "Do you know why?"

"They said he lost more weight and wasn't following the meal plan and they want him admitted. That really set him the fuck off," Liam says.

I nod. "Okay, he's just upset. It's okay, Liam. Do you know where he went?"

"I tried to follow him, but I lost him, he got in the train car seconds before I reached the subway," he replies.

"Okay, alright. Let him cool down. I'm really tied up right now. But I'll give him a call, yeah? And maybe Niall can try calling too. It's not your fault, lad," I say.

"Thanks, mate," Liam says. "Alright, talk later, yeah?"

"Yup," I say. I'm still sitting on the toilet with my key. I completely forgot I was holding it....

When Liam hangs up, I sit there staring at the tattoos on my forearms. I can't do this again, can I? No matter how bad it hurts.... My kid needs me.

And so does Louis.

I can't go back to this. I can't go back to the ward. I can't go back on suicide watch. I can't go back on those medications - the ones that sedated me until I was nothing more than a vegetable in the hospital bed.... I can't... I can't lose my life.

When I tried to kill myself, I thought it was the only way out. But I know now that it's not - that it does get better. And that all I would really be doing is letting the demons have their way.

I have to be stronger.

I run a shaky hand through my hair and exit the bathroom, not bothering to ask the nurse about Eliza again. Then, I sit down in my seat and rest my eyes. They'll wake me when she's ready. But for now, I'll need my rest. I have to pull through now. No more excuses.

I have to do this.


	21. climax

Feb 25

Louis POV

I don't stop running until I round the corner and get to the alleyway behind the Costa I work at. (They didn't fire me after all, but they did cut my hours significantly and my chance of getting manager is now in the toilet). Catching my breath, I sit down against the brick wall and take a cigarette out of my back pocket.

I bring it to my lips and light up. I thought the smoke would help calm me down, offering me that sweet, blissful release it usually does when I'm tired or stressed. But instead, I just feel worse - even more anxious than I was before.

Groaning, I open my phone to a bunch of missed calls and text messages. That bastard!

Of course Liam told the others. Of course he did. Now they're all after me like I'm some kind of mental patient....

Which technically I am. But I'm not that bad...am I?

I know what I did seems crazy. Throwing a clipboard, cursing at my doctors. That's not me. I didn't want to do it. But I had to - I just had to. Because the pain inside my chest has been crushing me since the minute I started this whole recovery process, and I couldn't stand another minute of it.

Control.

When I was starving, I had control of everything. My food, my diet, my exercise. Now these doctors have control of all of that. They ripped the control right from my hands and they won't let me fucking forget it.

"Louis, you didn't follow the meal plan and you're not in good shape. We highly recommend inpatient."

Highly recommend inpatient. Well guess what? I highly recommend going back to medical school and reevaluating how to talk to your patients.

Talking down to me like I'm some fucking incapable idiot. Absolutely not. I won't tolerate it.

So yes, I'm angry. But I'm not stupid - I know I'm sick. I know it's bad. I know I need to accept their help.

But i couldn't bring myself to follow their rules. I still can't.

Now, I look down at my hands, one of which is splattered in blood. I guess I cut myself when I threw the clipboard, or on my way out or while I was running. Who even knows anymore?

As I wipe the wound with my shirt sleeve, I feel it burn a little. I cringe and look into the cut - it's pretty deep. Looks bad.

That's what I wish people realized. How deep this disorder is. How it was never about the food. How much pain I've been suffering for ages, even before I met Harry. Even before he made that comment.

Sighing, I decide to open some of the text messages. I need to take my mind off my thoughts, which are nothing but jumbled and self deprecating.

Liam: hey mate. Where did you run off to? Sorry you're upset. Give me a ring

Niall: heard what happened. I tried to call but you didn't pick up. Let's chat soon!

Half a smile forms on my face as I digest their words. Niall and Liam are kind people, and I can tell they're doing their best to help and understand. But they can't even scratch the surface on the kinds of things I'm going through. They just don't know me the way Harry does....

Speaking of Harry, I begin to scroll through his messages as well and feel my stomach drop as I read his words.

Harry: hey, I heard what happened and I'm so sorry you're feeling frustrated   
Harry: I know it's so hard - and the way the doctors talk to you can be so upsetting. It's like you're a kid or something  
Harry: it's gonna suck a ton but I know you can push through it, Lou.   
Harry: I really care for you and I want you to feel better

I feel my heart beat speed up when I read that. He really cares for me? Like in a romantic way? Or just a friendly way?

Either way, It shouldn't matter. I told Harry we have to work on ourselves before we get together for real. But I'm such a hypocrite because all I want to do is wrap my arms around his waist and take his clothes off and kiss him again and again until my lips are chapped.

Every time I'm with him, i feel dizzy. It's like i don't know left from right, red from blue, up from down. Because I'm supposed to hate Harry, aren't I? Not be infatuated by him....

My cigarette goes out and I grab a new one, lighting up once again. What does it matter if I eat anyways? I'm just gonna die from lung cancer in the end...

When I'm done with my cigarette, I stand up, ready to go home. But as I turn to leave, Harry calls me. I should let it go to voicemail like I did with the others. I'm about to too, but at the last second, I press the green button, putting the phone to my ear.

"Hey," Harry says quietly, as if he's scared to startle me.

"Hey," I reply. "How are you?"

"Good. You okay? Are you safe?" Harry asks, his montones breaking a bit to showcase his concern.

"I'm, yeah, im okay. Don't worry about me, harry," I say quickly.

"I'm always gonna be worried about you," he says. "But yeah, i was just checking in."

I hear voices in the background - they're pretty loud, shouting almost. Then I hear sirens.

"Fuck, where are you?" I ask, heading to the subway. "I heard sirens."

"Oh, um, dunno why. I'm near the office. Stepped out," he says hurriedly. "Where are you?

"On my way home. How was work?" I ask.

Harry doesn't answer.

"Was It good?" I ask.

"Yeah, yeah- Fuck Louis, I'll have to call you back," Harry says, his voice rising an octave. "Talk later."

"Okay," I reply. Then I hang up and start to make my way home, wondering what could be so important that Harry had to end the call.

It couldn't have been for nothing, right? Maybe something happened to him. I hope he's okay.

Harry's POV

"Holy shit," I whisper as the nurse leads me to the delivery room. My heart is thumping out of my chest and I wish I had something to hold onto right now.... like a stress ball.... or a Louis.

But I'm here alone right now, so I squeeze my own hands together, hoping to relieve some of the pressure that's bubbling inside me.

The nurse opens the door and motions for me to follow her. But I don't. I just stand there, dumbfounded. Because Eliza is in there, covered in sweat and holding a fucking baby.

Our fucking baby.

"Are you coming or not?" the nurse demands, crossing her arms.

"Mhm," I mumble, walking slowly towards Eliza.

I half expect her to bite my head off, but she doesn't even look up. She just strokes the baby's head without looking up.

"Hi," I say, awkwardly, standing next to the bed.

Eliza continues to ignore me, and I look at the nurse for help. She doesn't seem to bed around the bush.

"Are you letting your baby daddy hold the baby or not?" She snaps.

Eliza rolls her eyes. "Not."

"I understand," I say with a nod. All I really want to do is tell Eliza to get over herself so I can have a moment with MY son. But it's honestly a miracle she even let me into the delivery room, so I'll take what I can get.

"Can I just look at him, then?" I ask quietly. Eliza looks up at me, her blue irises piercing my green ones. It's the first time I've ever seen her look even remotely emotional.

Without waiting for her permission, I inch over to the bed and look down at the small creature in front of me. "Hey, little guy," I coo. "I'm your dad."

Eliza doesn't move a muscle. She just sits there, staring at me. The baby blinks a bit, and opens its mouth, lulling it's tongue around. It almost looks like he's laughing.

"I think he likes me," I say, giggling a bit. "Hello, James. Nice to meet you."

I go to reach out and touch him, but Eliza slaps my hand. I jerk away and notice her eyes full of tears. "Get away!" She screams.

"I just wanted to—"

"I don't care what you want. Until we go to court, I don't want you near him," she growls, her neck vein bulging intensely. Her face is red and blotchy, and her eyes have dark circles beneath them. She's never looked so tired.

"Okay," I say, putting my hands up and backing away.

"Good, now get out," she says, pointing to the door.

The nurse shrugs at me and I exit the room, heading down the corridor and to the exit.

After searching the parking lot, I unlock my car and hop inside. All I want to do is go home right now. But instead, I sit there and sob into my hands.

I just met my son. I just met him for the first time and now he's being taken away from me. By that monster. Because... because why? Because I'm bisexual? Because I'm pro-choice?

I don't care that Eliza has a problem with me. Our relationship had been dying for a while before this whole pregnancy thing. I loved her, I really did love her. I loved her so much that I convinced myself that the abuse was normal - that I was doing something wrong and needed to change to please her. It wasn't until she dumped me that I started to realize how selfish she really was. How dark and evil she was beneath that blonde hair and ivory skin.

So yeah, I don't care that Eliza is upset with me. But I do care that it's affecting my relationship with my child. Seeing that tiny baby in her arms changed me in ways I didn't think were possible. Just knowing that I helped bring him into the world - it was mind boggling. He was so small and innocent and precious.

And I just want him to have the best life. The best life WITH a father. Which is something I never had growing up....

I know I'll at least win partial custody in court, but what if I want more than that? Why does Eliza have to screw me like this?

As I sit in the car with my hands pressed to my face, I think about all these things and how helpless I feel. How unbelievably out of control my life is, and how there's nothing I can do to stop it.

I cry until my eyes burn and tiny red marks appear on the tops of my cheeks. Mucus drips down my nose and into my mouth and I spit it out, not caring where it lands.

When I'm finally too tired to cry anymore, I boot my face with my sleeves and head home. Only I don't want to go home. I can't be alone right now.

As I scroll through my phone, I think about who to call. Niall would be the practical choice - hes always around and great to talk to. Liam is also a good choice, though he's feeling pretty down because of the breakup.

But I shouldn't call Louis. He's off limits - he's too sick and upset. He can't handle it. Or can he?

A/n: so this happened. Sorry it was so introspective and not so much action. well James was born. Welcome to the world.

On a personal note, I saw LIAM live in concert today in New York City! He was awesome and did a bunch of covers as well as his singles and a new unreleased song called "tell your friends." He also did one d - little things, history and drag me down. Would anyone wanna see pics/videos? I see Harry tomorrow in Madison Square Garden And Im SCREAMING.

Dhahahajajajajjaa yes ok good night. Love u guys


	22. extremes

This is going to be a super emotional and fucked up chapter, just a fair warning.

March 1

Louis' POV

It's my second week doing outpatient, and I'm already failing miserably. They bring up inpatient every day, or ask if I can at least stay for the night. But I keep saying no.

The truth is, I couldn't even if I wanted to. I don't have the money for it, and my health insurance doesn't cover anything but outpatient.

I have been trying. I really have been. I've been having three meals a day, like the plan says. It's been excruciatingly painful, given that I have no appetite nor a desire to eat food of any kind - not to mention the ever incessant voice screaming at me.

"You have to go work out, right now!"

"Peanut butter, again? You're disgusting."

"You put dressing on that salad?! Are you serious. You fucking pig."

It has been utterly unbearable dealing with the voice and the guilt it creates. But on most occasions, I've managed to get the food down and keep it down. Or at least I've tried to. There have been occasions where I've done some sit-ups in my room after a big meal. Or when I've skipped a snack. But I've been trying the very best I can. Truly. 

I met with a therapist this week and it seemed to help a bit. We talked all about my control issues and my abandonment issues from my abusive ex, who would leave me every other day and then come back. My mum's passing - the grief. All things I couldn't control - things that just made me crave control more.

We talked about how I can have control in other ways. The first way would be to take back control of my eating, and learn to eat things that I truly want, not what the voice wants. My therapist, Laura, assured me that the voice is nothing more than that - just a voice. Silly, meaningless, and I don't have to listen to it no matter how loud it is.

Easier said than done, though. Because the voice is convincing. And it's not a random voice - it's my voice. It's me - part of me, at least. And I confuse it with my own thoughts sometimes. Laura told me that as I gain the weight back and start eating normally, the voice will grow quieter. And then I can truly start being myself again. I hope she's fucking right.

Ugh. Weight gain. I feel sick just stepping on the scale for my weigh in today. Harry took away my scale at home, and I bought a new one but I haven't taken it out of the box yet. I'm trying so hard not to. I'm not allowed to weigh myself at home - only at the doctor's, with my eyes closed.

Today, as my feet touch the cold metal surface, I want more than anything to open my eyes. I just want to know.... But the next thing I realize, the nurse is putting the scale back to zero and recording the number in her clipboard.

"You've done well this week, Louis. We're very proud," the nutritionist says, when she comes in a few minutes later.

"So I've gained weight," I snap. Suddenly, I feel like I've been hit by a truck. This should be a good thing right? Right? But inside my head, I'm screaming. Because the last thing in the world I want is to gain a single pound.... To me, gaining weight is getting fat. And I can't get fat. I just can't.

"Yes, you're weight went up," she says carefully. "That's a positive thing. It's not much, but you're slowly getting back to the healthy zone."

The healthy zone. That's where I need to get if I don't want anymore seizures, or heart problems. But the voice doesn't want the healthy zone, it wants to keep losing weight. Losing and losing and never gaining...

"I... okay," I say, not knowing what else to do.

"We're gonna say positive, yeah?" she says, taking out a new meal plan. "Now, you didn't gain much, so we really have to increase your plan. You need two snacks a day. So I know you've been doing the apple with peanut butter. Can we also try a granola bar? Or a breakfast cookie? What do you like for a snack? It can be anything really. Just has to be substantial."

"Wait... why do I need to eat more, I already gained weight," I say, wanting to cry. I told the boys I didn't need anyone taking me to appointments anymore after my first week, but now all I want is someone to stay with me. This is all too much.

"Louis, you did well this week. But you have start gaining weight faster if you want to get healthy. At this rate, it's going to take you six months. We want it to be three. Maybe even less."

"Ugh," I groan. "So you're just going to stuff me like a fucking pig."

"Louis, please don't use those words. You're extremely underweight, you just can't see it," she corrects me.

"I know. Logically, I know. I just can't imagine myself being able to do this," I admit. I subconsciously wrap my hand around my wrist to make sure it can still fit around it. It does, and I sigh in relief. I haven't gained that much....

"You can. And you can up therapy if you want," she says. "I'm sure that'll help. Now the snack?"

"Oh, um. I don't know, I used to like cheese and crackers. Or digestives," I say. It was only a few months prior that I used to eat those things, but it feels like ages ago. I hardly remember what it was like to eat normally.

"Okay, awesome. So try those, you can alternate. And we're going to add another slice of toast at breakfast, yeah?" she says, making the changes on the meal plan.

I swallow thickly, nodding. Though the truth is, I am going to cry as soon as I get home.

"Okay, great. And Louis, I have a question for you," she says, tapping her pen on the clipboard. "Are your hunger cues coming back?"

"Are my what?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.

"Hunger cues. Do you feel hungry? Do you have an appetite?" she asks.

"Oh, um. No. I just force myself to eat," I tell her. "It honestly hurts my stomach so much."

"Okay," she says, nodding. "That's normal. But you should be feeling hungry again soon. And don't get frightened if it hits you hard. Sometimes patients experience extreme hunger, where they suddenly experience the hunger they should have been feeling while starving. It's totally normal and just eat as much as you want. Your body needs it."

"Oh, okay. Thanks for letting me know," I mumble, getting up to leave. Extreme hunger? That's definitely not something that will happen to me. "Um, also, can I at least walk a bit? I just feel so crazy cooped up in my house without exercise."

"One mile a day should be good, Lou," she says. "But no more than that, yeah? I'll see you next week."

"Right, thanks," I reply.

I go home and change into sneakers to take my walk as soon as I get there. My body still kills a ton, but it's good to get some fresh air, and I don't go fast. It's crazy to think about how many miles I was running and how much weight I was lifting before, given that it's been hurting to even stand.

Now, as I make my way home, I wince on my way up the stairs. Maybe this was worse than I thought.

I sit down and write a bit before making myself dinner. I'm supposed to meet with Harry tomorrow morning for coffee tomorrow, which is going to be at least another 300 calories, and I want more than anything to restrict but I don't.

Instead, I eat what I'm supposed to (chicken with rice and veggies), my stomach throbbing all the way through, and then push my plate away, feeling defeated. I never can fully finish the meals in front of me. I'm not sure if it's psychological or physical, but it doesn't matter.

My stomach hurts so badly that I double over, and I nearly cry as I look down at how bloated I am. "It's normal, it's normal!" They always tell me that. But is it really? Or are they just tricking me?

********

Nothing could have ever prepared me for what happened the next morning. I woke up, rolled out of bed and took my shower like I always do. I close my eyes, leaning my head back and washing the suds through it.

Then, suddenly, I hear a loud sound and nearly fall down from jumping in shock. The sounds happens again - and then I realize it's not coming from the drain like I thought. It's coming from me.

It's my stomach - and it's fucking growling.

When she said 'extreme hunger,' never in a million years did I think it would feel this way. There's suddenly a gnawing, burning empty feeling in the pit of my stomach, and I can't get out of the shower fast enough.

My breathing speeds up and I pull on my clothes quickly, though they're baggy and hang off me like a potato sack. I take the glass of water from my bedside table and chug it down, hoping it'll stop the sensation. But it only makes it worse.

Groaning, I head to the kitchen for breakfast. The meal plan says a three egg omelette with cheese and two slices of toast with butter.

Normally, that's enough food to send me into a panic, and it takes me over an hour to finish. But today, after I finish preparing it, I find myself shoveling it down one bite after another without hesitation.

The voice is screaming at me to slow down, but my body is disobeying completely. In fact, I physically cannot stop myself, and I only eat faster, barely tasting each bite as it slides down my throat.

When I'm done, I stare at my empty plate - and for the first time since I've been sick, I wish there was more.

Oh my fucking god, I want more?

I feel like I'm going to cry right now but I can't even resist when I start opening the pantry and taking things out of it. Crisps, crackers, cookies. I don't even care - I just shove it into my mouth, and grab a milk carton to wash it down.

All I can think the entire time is... What am I doing? How disgusting I am? Am I bingeing? I'm fucking bingeing right now... this is so G R O S S. I am so fat. I should not be doing this. 

And I shouldn't be. But I literally cannot stop. And I keep going, this time reaching for the ice cream pint that I had bought as a "dessert challenge" but could never bring myself to touch.

Now, I dig into it with my spoon like it's the last thing to eat on earth, and suddenly find myself overcome with emotion. This is the first time I've allowed myself to eat ice cream in months, and as the chocolate flavor hits my tongue, I realize how much I was missing out on. I start to remember what real food tastes like - not just protein bars and ice cubs and plain lettuce. 

For a fleeting moment, as I eat the ice cream, I feel free. Free of the voice, the guilt, the worry. But as I finish the pint and look down at what I've done, I instantly revert back to feeling disgusting. Absolutely repulsive. 

The worst part is, I'm still hungry after eating all this. The gnawing, empty feeling is still there- in fact it might be even stronger. Without even thinking, I go back in the fridge for more. I'm crying now, as I push more food into my mouth, barely chewing it. 

I have never felt more out of control. 

A few minutes later, as I sit there against my fridge crying with a packet of crisps, Harry calls and I debate whether or not to answer the phone. There is literally no way I can go meet with him for coffee. For one, I look utterly disgusting - I'm so bloated from eating all this food that I look pregnant. And even if I were to miraculously able to overcome my self-loathing, I can hardly move right now. 

Fuck.

"Hey... I'm here, sorry. I tried texting but you didn't answer," Harry says, when I finally pick up.

"Oh," I say. My voice comes out hoarse, muffled. It's clear I've been crying. 

"Are you okay? We can reschedule if you're not up for it," Harry says slowly. 

"I...um.... Fuck. No, I'm really not okay," I say. I don't mean to cry, but of course I do. I start sobbing, wailing into the phone like a newborn child. I just don't know what else to do. 

"Hey. It's okay. What's wrong? Are you alright?" Harry asks, panic enveloping his deep voice.

"I'm fine, it's just.... so yesterday they told me about this thing called extreme hunger at the hospital... and... it's like if you've been starving for a while you get your appetite back full force and can't stop eating... and...." I can't even finish the sentence without crying.

"And it's happening right now?" Harry says, finishing the sentence.

"Yeah," I squeak. "I literally can't stop... I've never felt more disgusting in my entire life, Harry. But I physically can't control it... I just, want it to go away."

"Did they say how to make it go away?" he asks.

"They said to just eat as much as you want, but I've been doing that and it's making me more hungry. I literally can't even move right now... I'm still eating fucking crisps as I fucking talk to you.... I just want to kill myself, Harry, I look so disgusting. I'm pathetic," I cry.

"Hey, hey. Listen, it's gonna be okay. You'll be okay, Lou," Harry replies. "I'm gonna come over and check on you, okay?" 

"No!" I scream, a bit louder than I expected to. "You can't see my like this."

"Stop it, you look fine, Louis. Please, trust me. Don't be embarrassed," Harry says, his voice cracking a bit. "I just want to see you. I really care about you. Like a lot."

I find that hard to believe. How could anyone care about someone like me? I'm so fucked up, so unlovable. But somehow, my friends do. And they assure me every single day, even when I feel like the biggest burden in the world. 

"Okay, I guess you can come, just what should I do in the mean time?" I say softly.

"I know you're gonna hate me for saying this, but just keep eating. Until you're not hungry anymore. That's the only way to get through it," he replies. 

I roll my eyes and look at the empty bags and wrappers surrounding me. I have probably just eaten thousands of calories in one sitting, but my stomach is still growling, screaming for more. 

"Alright, Harry," I sigh. "Okay. See you soon."

A/n: yikes ok so this is something that can actually happen during the anorexia recovery process. It's absolutely terrifying but eventually as you start to recover your body begins to get hungry again and the hunger can be overpowering. keep in mind that hes been starving for months - so it make sense that his body needs more nutrients. i hope i explained this part so it made sense - it happened to me when i was recovering and I felt so ashamed. but it's part of the process.


	23. comfort

March 1

Harry's POV

I knock quietly on the door to Louis' apartment. Eventually, the door opens, but I don't see him. I hear footsteps and then hear a muffled "Come in!" from the side of the apartment.

I head inside and as I round the corner, I notice Louis is wrapped in a blanket on the couch.

"Hey," I say, taking off my coat and sitting down next to him. "How are you feeling?"

"Awful," Louis says. The blanket is a dark purple color and his blue eyes look gorgeous as he snuggles up to the fabric.

"Aw, I'm sorry. Anything I can do?" I ask. I don't touch him - I'm kind of afraid to ever since Liam made that comment about him not wanting to be touched.

Louis looks up at me, his eyes red and puffy from crying. "Unless you can make this disgusting feeling go away, then no."

"I can try," I say, scooting closer to him. I have to remind myself not to touch him. All I want to do is hold him, but I know it'll make things worse. "Is it over, do you feel full now?"

Louis nods, looking down at the floor. "Yeah, it's over. I only had to eat about a million things first, though. So gross..."

"Lou," I sigh. "I know you feel guilty, but I looked it up on my way here and it's very common for patients in recovery. Your body needed that. It's just your body reacting to the restriction you put it through. It's your body's way of trying to get healthy again."

"Well, it's fucking terrifying," Louis pouts, jutting out his bottom lip. "I hated every second of it. Now I feel so sick. I might just make myself puke, though it'll probably happen naturally first."

"No... Lou, don't do that. Please don't," I say, gently taking his hand from beneath the blanket.

"Haz, you don't know how much pain I'm in, though," Louis says. A tear streams down his cheek and now I know how difficult this is going to be. For both of us.

"I'm sorry. I know it hurts, but Louis, I'm telling you, you just have to sit with it," I say.

"Who are you? My doctor?" he asks, wagging a finger at me.

"No, but trust me, Louis, you can't throw up. It's gonna start a cycle," I say.

"How do you know? I'd rather start a cycle than gain 3 pounds in one sitting," Louis says. His eyes are wide and wild with rage, and his shoulders are bobbing up and down as he breathes.

"Louis, that won't happen. It all balances out. It's going to get under control again, you just have to let things ride out. I know it's scary. I know how bad you want to just relieve yourself, but sometimes you have to sit with the discomfort," I say, stroking his wrist. "It gets harder before it gets easier. Truly."

Louis looks at me, pushing loose strands of hair out of his eyes. "I know you're right. But I'm not as strong as you."

"Hey," I say, taking his face in my hands. "Louis, you are totally as strong as me. You're so strong. The fact that you went through what you went through, and you're here trying. That takes so much strength."

Louis nods, biting his lip. "Thank you, Harry. Thanks, I'm just overwhelmed. Do you, um, want tea or something?"

"I'm okay, love. Thank you though," I say.

"Okay, well, do you have somewhere to be? I'm fine, honestly. You didn't have to come," Louis says nervously.

"No, I'm free all day. Working from home. And most of my work is already done," I tell him. "And I didn't have to but I wanted to."

"Oh, well thank you Harry. How have you been?" he asks as he readjusts the blanket.

"I've been well," I begin. But then I look at Louis and how weak and vulnerable he looks and I decide to just tell him the truth. "Actually, I've been kind of stressed. Eliza had the baby."

"Wow," Louis says, his eyes lighting up. "Congrats!"

He leans over and hugs me, fully forgetting about the blanket, and I feel his swollen tummy press against me.

"Fuck - I am so gross, I'm so sorry," Louis stammers, ripping out of my grip and pulling the blanket back over himself.

"No way," I reply stroking his arm. "That was a really great hug. You're so beautiful."

Louis blushes but looks away from me. "You don't mean it," he mutters. "But anyways, that's so exciting. What's his name? Or hers? Isn't it a bit early?"

"Yeah," I reply. "It was early. She had complications. I found out it's because she wasn't eating right during the pregnancy - or at all really. I kept trying to tell her to get help, but... she didn't listen. But he's healthy. Premature but healthy. His name is James."

I pull up a photo on my phone - a screenshot of a photo Eliza's sister posted on her Instagram earlier today.

"Aw, he's adorable," Louis says, taking my phone from my hands. "That's amazing, Harry. I'm so happy for you."

"Thank you," I say, smiling as Louis takes in the photo of my son, only a few days old and wrapped in a tiny blue blanket. "I'm really happy. It's just... well, I can't see him until we go to court next month. She won't allow it. And my lawyer thinks I will only win partial custody... I mean, it's better than nothing. But what if I want more?"

"Oh no, she's so awful," Louis says. "I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," I reply, stroking Lou's hair. "I'll get through the next month. We both will."

"Haz," Louis says, taking a deep breath. "I'm so fucking scared, honestly. I thought I could do this, but after what happened today, I'm so afraid it's going to happen again. Is it going to happen again?"

"I don't know," I say with a sigh. "It might. But just call me, okay? It'll be alright. I know it's so painful and it sucks so much. But it'll end. The pain will end, I promise."

"Did the pain end for you?" he asks, taking a hold of my hand and interlacing our fingers.

What do I tell him? That I nearly sliced my wrists open with a can opener last night because I couldn't find a razor? That I've been crying every day since James was born? Or do I just smile and pretend I'm okay, like I do with Niall and Liam?

"Not entirely," I admit, deciding to be truthful with Louis. "I just... it's been really hard since James was born. And this whole thing with Eliza - she wasn't even going to tell me she was having him early. She needed money for the surgery and I paid for it. And I just... I feel so cheated by her. She was always really homophobic towards me all throughout our relationship, once she found out I was bi. I took a lot of her abuse- because I loved her and i thought it was normal. But now, I see how bad it was and it's just too much sometimes. It's just... I've been dying to cut, Louis, dying."

"Oh my god," Louis replies. "I am so sorry, Harry. I didn't know things were that bad. Here I am asking for your help... but you've gotta help yourself first, babe."

Babe. He called me babe? My heart is racing now because I just poured out all of my emotions to him, everything I have. And I was so worried about how he'd react, but now he's calling me babe.

"I know," I reply, teary eyed. "I've upped my therapy sessions a ton. I'm hanging in there. And don't worry, I love coming over and hanging out with you. It's no stress at all. In fact, it makes me feel better."

"That's good," Louis replies. "I just... how do I say this? I'm sorry, I guess."

"For what?" I ask, wiping tears for my eyes.

"I'm sorry I can't be normal for you. That We can't go out to restaurants together or grab a pint or go ice skating at the park... I'm sorry I can't do those things with you. I really want to," he says. 

"Aww, Lou," I reply. "All in due time, honey. Soon you can do those things. There's no rush."

"I really fucking like you Harry," Lou says, leaning over to me. He's so close now our faces are nearly touching, and I feel myself growing hard.

"I really fucking like you, too," I reply.

Louis grabs my face and kisses me now, just like he did the first time. He moves his tongue in and out of my mouth, twirling it around, and I allow my tongue to partake in the dance too, pressing it against the front of his mouth.

"Fuck," Louis says, pulling away. "I want to do so much more with you right now, I just... I can't... I mean, I can, I'm just too gross."

"Shh, don't worry about it," I say. "Don't worry, we're not ready for that anyways."

"Are we not though?" Louis asks, raising an eyebrow playfully. "I think I've made up my mind now."

"Have you, now?" I reply as I bite my lip in anticipation.

"I feel so connected to you, like, I can't explain why, but I just do. You understand me in ways no one else does, and I guess it's because we're both kind of messed up," Louis says. "And it wasn't your fault Harry. I know you think it was. But it was always about control. I had a lot of things happen in the past that I couldn't control - my abusive ex and my mum's death. If it wasn't your comment, it was something else that would have set me off. I was spiraling when you met me. Depressed, isolated, at the lowest point of my career..."

His mum died? I had no idea... and he had been abused? Poor baby.

"I just, I can't hate you anymore, Harry. I wanted to but I realized I can't blame you for this. It's no one's fault. Not even mine. And when we started growing closer, when we started talking and you started spending more time with me, I realized how similar we are.... how badly I want you... how badly I've always fucking wanted you Harry. Harry, you're amazing."

I sigh, shaking my head and covering my face with my hands. "I don't deserve you, Louis. You're truly so wonderful."

"You do, though," Louis says, inching closer to me. "You do deserve me. And you deserve to spend time with James. And you don't deserve the bullshit Eliza put you through. And you don't deserve even the tiniest scratch on that beautiful body of yours, so come here and give me a hug, Harold."

Louis climbs onto my chest, resting his head there and wrapping his arms around my neck. They're so thin and weak that I nearly recoil from his touch, worried if I'm going to hurt him. But I stay, and I stroke his back, wincing as each individual vertebrae presses against my fingers.

"Promise me, Louis," I whisper, as I stroke him. "Fucking promise me you'll get better. I can't take seeing you like this."

Louis looks up at me, his face flushed. "I'm gonna try, Harry. I'm sorry to scare you, I know I'm repulsive."

I grab him gently, cupping his face in my hands so he's looking into my eyes. "No, Louis. You need to stop saying that. Okay. You are not fat, you are not repulsive, you are not disgusting, you are not gross. You're beautiful, okay? You're so fucking beautiful, but you're also sick. And you need to get better. You're so sick it scares me, I worry if I'll hurt you. But every day that you fight, you'll get better. You'll get stronger, and then I won't have to worry anymore. I just want you healthy and happy, Louis? You know that, right, baby?"

Louis starts to cry now. "Thank you, Harry. Really."

"You don't have to thank me," I say. "I care for you so much. Always."

"Me too, Harry. I care for you too. With all my heart."

A./n: well okay then omg my larry heart breaks for both boys- also there's two song references in here if you can find them (not the exact lyrics but similar) 

Also, a bunch of you requested pics and videos from the Harry concert I attended in New York. I ended up compiling all of my video footage into a Youtube video for your enjoyment :) It has every single song except for FTDT - it also includes chain, stockholm syndrome, IFICF, and just a little bit of your heart. Enjoy :D 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-Q9XGcK_QEY


	24. the game

March 6

Harry's POV

"Alright mates, who wants Prosecco?" I ask, setting down wine glasses on the table.

It's around 10pm on a Friday night and I'm having the guys over for drinks. It's been ages since we all went out together. In fact, the last time we had all been in one room was during the night we went clubbing, and we all know how that ended.

I've been keeping up with Niall and Liam at work. Apparently, my Pret ads did well and the business is out of the danger zone at least for now. And of course, we've all been checking up on Louis. We haven't wanted to disturb him lately, as he's still pretty sick, but he's been dying to get out of the house and I thought tonight would be the perfect way to cheer him up.

"Me!" Liam says, raising his glass.

"Someone's in a dapper mood," Louis says, raising an eyebrow. He's wearing a black hoodie and baggy black joggers with a beanie even though the weather is finally starting to Get warm. The poor lad is always cold.

"Maybe I am," Liam says, blushing.

"Go on, tell us what it is!" Niall says, elbowing him in the side.

Liam shrugs, his amber eyes squinting a bit as he smiles. "I may or may not have met someone."

"No way!" I say, pouring each lad a glass of wine. "Who is it?"

"Oh, stop it playing dumb Harold," Liam giggles.

"Do I know him?" I joke.

Liam shakes his head and turns to Niall and Louis. "It's that doctor guy Harry was talking about. The one he wanted to set Louis up with. His name is Andres. He's Spanish. And super hot."

Louis bites his lip and looks up at me. I smirk at him, glad that Louis never did get a chance to meet the doctor. There was always someone else who was after him....

"What's he like?" Niall asks, taking a giant gulp of his wine. The lad drinks every drink like it's a glass of beer.

"Oh, he's lovely. He's 28, so a bit older. Kind of serious, but also has a snarky sense of humor," Liam gushes. "But it's only been one date. So who knows!"

"Well he sounds lovely," Louis adds. I watch as he looks at the wine warily before taking a small sip.

I frown and take a seat next to him. Then I take a sip of my own wine, showing him that it's okay. I've been really worried about him lately. Ever since the extreme hunger incident, he's been pretty terrified of food. Even more so than before. He's been eating, but very cautiously, and it's so sad to see him look at food like it's the enemy. It's not the enemy - it's exactly what he needs to stay alive.

"Wanna put the game on, yeah?" Niall asks, jumping up to get the remote. Of course, we assume he means football. But when a man in a golf club appears on the screen, we all roll our eyes and groan.

"Come on, Niall," Liam says, grabbing the remote from him. "No one wants to watch this rubbish."

"Rude!" Niall pouts, sitting back down and pretending to cry.

Louis giggles and I resist the urge to slip my arm around him. I'm not sure if he wants that right now. It's always hard to tell what he wants. Because sometimes what he wants is different from what he needs.

"Fuck, I hate both teams," Liam complains as he switches the channel to football.

"Me too," I laugh, taking another sip of my drink.

"This is why we should have stayed on the golf channel," Niall mumbles. He downs the rest of his drink and takes out his phone.

"Anyone want more wine? Or food? I have crisps and pretzels," I say, heading back to the kitchen.

"Sure, why not?" Liam replies.

I walk into the kitchen and grab another bottle and a few bags of crisps and pretzels, of all different flavors.

When I come back, Louis is sitting alone, staring at his phone. His wine is barely touched.

"You good, Lou?" I ask quietly, as I set down the food and drinks.

Louis looks up quickly and nods. "Yeah, no. I'm fine. Sorry."

"No worries," I say, sitting back down.

"Louis, how's writing going?" Niall asks with a smile.

"Um, fine. Been doing a bit of alternative stuff. I've actually been trying poetry... nowhere near as good as Harry's though," he says quietly.

He licks his lips and looks down at the floor. I know he hates the attention. He hates being questioned or looked at. It's such a fucking shame because he deserves all the attention in the world.

"I'm sure it's great," I say, sitting next to him. "I'd love to read it sometime."

Louis laughs nervously. "It's not that good really, Harry."

"It's probably really good!" Liam says enthusiastically. "I remember we took creative writing together in uni and you were the best in the class when it came to the poetry unit."

Louis shrugs. "Maybe I'll show you eventually."

"Well, this is my third glass, and I'm feeling GREAT," Niall says, changing the subject. "I almost forgot how you cruelly gypped me of my golf channel."

Niall and Liam banter for a bit about football versus golf, and I focus my attention on Louis, who currently looks close to tears.

"Lou, are you okay?" I whisper.

Louis turns to me, wiping his face with his sleeve. "Yeah, I'm OK. Can you stop asking?"

"Sorry," I reply, inching away from him slightly.

"Lads, how the fuck is it still 0-0?" Liam groans. "It's been forever."

"No idea," I reply, pouring myself a second glass of wine. I shouldn't care that Louis snapped at me. It happens all the time, but it doesn't make it hurt any less.

"Louis, who do you think is gonna win?" Liam asks.

Louis looks up from his phone. "What, oh? Manchester."

"Manchester, good choice. Wanna make a bet?" Niall asks excitedly.

"Sure, Ok," Louis replies, avoiding eye contact. "I only have 5 quid."

"That's fine. We'll each put in five quid," Liam says. "I've got Liverpool."

"Same!" I add. We each put our money on the table. Whoever wins will have only gained five quid, but it's better than nothing.

We continue to watch the game for the next hour or so, drinking and snacking all the while. Louis remains distant, and I stop asking him if he's okay. It only makes him more touchy.

Eventually, he gets up to go to the bathroom.

"Hey, is he okay? Is this too much for him?" Liam asks in a hushed tone. "He's hardly been talking or even looking at us."

"Yeah, and we didn't bring up the doctors or his disorder at all. We're trying to make it a normal night for him," Niall chimes in.

"I dunno lads, I asked if he was alright and he kept saying he's fine and to leave him alone," I whisper.

"That sounds exactly like what someone who's not fine would say," Liam replies.

"Yeah, he's been in the bathroom, awfully long, should we go check on him?" Niall asks.

"Yeah, I'll go," I reply, getting up and heading to the bathroom.

I head over to the restroom and knock on the door. No answer.

"Lou?" I say quietly. "Can we talk?"

A full minute goes by without any answer, and I resist the urge to knock the door down myself.

But then, the door opens slowly, and Louis emerges, his cheeks red and his eyes watery.

"What it is, baby?" I ask, pulling him in for a hug.

Louis pulls out of my grip and turns towards the wall. "I just can't do this right now."

"Do what?" I ask, my eyes widening.

"Like... THIS. You guys are acting like nothing ever happened. But I know you know I'm sick. I know you're all watching me like a hawk and judging me and talking about me when I'm not there. I was coming back from the bathroom and I heard you all talking about me...."

"Oh, baby, no," I say, taking a cautious step towards. "We're not judging you. We're just worried and want to make sure you're okay."

Louis turns to me, his brow furrowed. "Well, what do you think, Harry? I'm not Ok. I don't know if I'll ever be OK. Alright? But I'm trying. I'm trying so damn hard for you.... and you don't even care... you just want me to be happy and talkative and exactly the way I used to be before I got sick.... Well, I can't be. I'm not the same person anymore."

"Hey, Lou," I breathe. "I am so sorry. I know it's insensitive and we shouldn't expect that of you. I know it took months before I was even a fraction of my former self after the... accident. It changes you, I know. I know, babe. I'm sorry to put pressure on you. I just wish you'd tell me when things were rough...."

Louis turns to face, me folding his arms across his chest. "When aren't things rough, Harry? If I told you every single issue I had, I would be writing a novel. Today was the fucking worst. I didn't even want to come here. I had another episode of extreme hunger and I tried to ignore it but ended up eating an entire box of cookies and then I wanted to die after. I did jumping jacks until I felt nauseous and I still looked disgusting and bloated, so I had to wear this hoodie to cover it. I'm in so much pain... and I can't stand you people talking about me like I'm a child...."

"Okay, okay, love, come here," I say, wrapping my arms around his shoulders. "I'm so sorry. You didn't have to come. Do you want to lie down in the back room?"

Louis makes a noise that sounds like the equivalent of an animal's growl and pushes me off him. "No, Harry. I wanted to come. I wanted to be normal for once. And no, I don't want to lie down. Can you just stop - coddling me. I will tell you if I can't handle something. I'm sorry I'm not so energetic, but this is the best I can do right now...."

"Okay," I say, putting my hands up. "Alright, Lou. I'm sorry. I have to stop. I just... I care about you so much, I can't help it... I think I... I'm falling for you...."

Louis stares at me like I just gave him the key to the city, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging upon. "Well... Ok, Haz. I'm really into you too... but no more coddling me, yeah?"

"No more," I say with a smile. "I promise."

"Okay. Cool. Do you um... wanna hold my hand when we head back in there?" he asks shyly.

"Of course," I say, taking his hand.

"Really? Okay, because you weren't touching me at all back there, so I thought you didn't want the guys knowing or something...." he says.

"What? I thought you didn't want the guys knowing! That's why I didn't touch you," I chuckle.

Louis furrows his brow, his blue eyes crinkling around the edges. "The boys know exactly how I feel about you, Haz. I don't care at all. I was wondering why you were five feet away...."

"They know how I feel too," I admit, biting my lip. "Sorry. We're both so silly."

Louis rolls his eyes and takes my hand, leading back out to the living room.

"Hey, so Harry and I are dating. Kind of. It's complicated," Louis says abruptly. "But we like to cuddle and stuff, so we're gonna. Also, don't ever talk about me like I'm a child again. I heard every word of it."

Liam and Niall stare up at Louis, nodding obediently. "Sorry, mate. We won't. Just worried," Niall explains.

"Don't be," Louis says. "I'm an adult. If I'm not feeling OK, I'll let you know."

"Got it," Liam says.

"Cool," Louis replies. He takes a seat and nuzzles his head onto my neck, tugging at my hand so that I'll hold him. "Okay, now let's watch Manchester fucking destroy Liverpool."

A//n: my larry mother fucking heart


	25. self destruction

Trigger warning: very very severe eating disorder behaviors and self harm. very triggering

April 1

Louis' POV

My heart is beating out of my chest and it hurts to breathe. With trembling hands, I open the door to my room and allow the nurse to step in.

"Step on the scale, eyes closed," she says.

I do as told without a hitch, allowing my feet to touch the cold metal apparatus.

When she tells me to open my eyes and step off , I think it's over. I start to breathe again, I feel the tension exit my shoulders and a small smile creeps across my lips.

But it's not over. The nurse instructs me to sit down and begins to take my blood pressure and vitals. How could I fucking forget that part?

Instantly, I start panicking as she wraps the sleeve around my arm. After a few seconds, it slowly tightens and the machine beeps a few times.

"That's weird," the nurse says, frowning. "You have no blood pressure. Let me try again."

She tries it again. Still zero.

"Must be something wrong with the machine, let me take it manually," she says, taking out a manual cuff.

Still nothing. I hold my breath, trying not to cry.

"Are you nervous or something? That's odd. Get dressed."

I nod, and as soon as she leaves the room, I rip off the gown like my life depends on it. Beneath it, I've been wearing a wrestling singlet (sort of like a leotard) in which I've shoved two plated weights. Ten pounds each.

I shove the weights into my backpack and put on my clothes, wheezing as I do it.

I'm so dizzy I can hardly see what I'm doing. But when the nurse comes back in, I'm sitting on the counter, completely calm. Completely normal.

"We're so pleased with your progress in such a short time, Louis," the nutritionist says shortly afterwards when she comes in. "Dr. Smith and I think you're ready to end the program."

Yes. Fucking yes. 

She goes through a final meal plan with me before I leave, and the doctor comes in just to check my numbers. "Everything looks good," she says.

And that's it. I'm done forever. I did it.

Or at least I did what I had to do. I'm not really recovered. I'm not really ready to leave outpatient. In fact, I'm far from it. I just tricked the bloody scales, for god's sakes. And I've been tricking them for weeks, leading the doctors along to think I was making progress.

Part of me feels absolutely, disgustingly guilty for what I've done. But I mostly feel relieved. I tried so hard to recover, I truly did. But after weeks of those stupid meal plans and the extreme hunger and the bloating and the daily mental torment, I couldn't take it anymore. I just couldn't take it.

When I found the singlet and the weights while cleaning out my brother's storage unit last month, I got the perfect plan. A plan that would make everyone get off my back - a plan that would give me my freedom back, WITHOUT gaining weight.

And so now I've done it. Now I've gotten medically cleared, despite doing nothing but losing weight. Despite only getting sicker. I know I'm fucked up. I know it's bad. I know I have lost control of myself, and have given in to my eating disorder.

But it felt like there was no other way out - the pain was unbearable. The voice was too loud, and I had to do something to make it stop. I had to give it what it wanted.

There was only one problem with my plan, though. It was getting warmer, and I couldn't keep hiding my body in jumpers and baggy jeans.

Honestly, I could probably trick Liam and Niall, as they only ever see me in my clothes. But there was no way I would be able to trick Harry. He was always touching me and holding me and seeing me naked.

How would I continue to get away with this if he realized he could count my ribs? If he knew that I was spending all my time at the local indoor pool swimming to burn off calories? If he saw how thin my thighs were - even thinner than my calves? If he knew that I've been throwing my groceries in the garbage the minute he leaves? Or exercising for hours after our dinner dates?

He couldn't know. Harry couldn't know. It would ruin everything.

So I told him it was my new body I was ashamed of. That the weight gain made me feel embarrassed, and I wasn't ready to have sex again just yet.

He believed me. But I know it's only a matter of time before he finds out.

Maybe I can fix this on my own. I can stop starving whenever I want. I can gain the weight back whenever I want. I can control this - right?

"Louis, that's so amazing! I'm so proud," Harry says over the phone as I tell him I've been cleared.

Guilt swells in my throat, but I continue the facade. I hate lying to Harry. I fucking hate it. But I can't help myself.

"Thank you, I'm excited too," I say with a short laugh.

"Well, why don't we go out to dinner to celebrate?" Harry asks.

"Yeah, sure," I reply.

"Seafood? I know you love seafood," Harry gushes.

"Of course, babe," I reply.

Harry chuckles. "Great, let's meet at 7pm."

It's hot out today, and I have trouble finding an outfit that's weather appropriate but doesn't reveal too much. I settle on a loose pair of khakis and a blue button down that's several sizes too big and has large sleeves. That takes care of my thin arms. There's really nothing I can do about my gaunt face, but I've been trying to grow out a beard, and that seems to have been working.

"Hey love," Harry says, wrapping me in a hug. I have to arch my back a bit so he doesn't feel my bones. Even with the undershirt I put on beneath my shirt for extra padding, my bones always tend to jut through the fabric.

"Hey, baby," I reply, kissing him softly on the lips.

Harry smiles and he takes a seat across from me. "Want a drink?"

"Of course," I reply, though my stomach is churning as I think of all the calories.

"Mojitos?" Harry asks, raising an eyebrow.

He flips through the menu, and I shudder as I notice the red marks on his wrist. They're still fresh - from only a week ago when he lost in court to Eliza. She got full custody, solely because she was the woman. They're doing a retrial in another month, but so far, it has destroyed Harry from the inside out.

Sadly, when I found him in the bathroom slicing his wrists with a razor that night, I wasn't surprised. I knew he was at a high risk of relapse, and that Eliza would only send him over the edge. Taking a deep breath, I held him in my arms, and ripped the razor away from him. He tried clawing at his wrist instead, but I held his arms steady, pleading him to be kind to himself.

"Baby, please stop. Please stop it," I begged. Harry stared at me, his eyes seeping with tears, and collapsed into my chest sobbing.

It was shocking to me to see Harry so vulnerable. He had always been so strong - always been the one I looked up to for support and inspiration. But now he was relapsing, and so was I. I had been for a while. The difference was, I knew about his relapse. He had no idea about mine.

Harry was very open about his experiences after that. He told me he signed up for a support group and was finding another therapist who specialized in self harm. In the past week, he's been doing all the right things for the recovery. And me, well, I've been doing the opposite.

I know what I'm doing is awful. I know I'm a failure. I should be strong like Harry. But deep down, I feel like I need to do this. I'm simply doing what I have to do to s u r v i v e.

"Yeah, mojitos sound great," I say, eyeing a shrimp dish on the menu. Harry will be wary if I get something too healthy, so I decide on the shrimp Francias, as it has butter and comes with rice and vegetables. It'll be more to work off later, but I have to keep up my charade.

"Remember when we couldn't do this? When you were too scared to go to restaurants?" Harry says softly, biting his lip.

I feel tears welling in the back of my eyes, but I nod. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm glad that's over now."

"Me too," Harry says. "I'm glad you're healthy babe. I'm trying to get healthy for you too."

I nearly choke on my water as he says that. I'm such a fucking liar it hurts. But I smile and nod. "I'm glad too."

When we get home after the dinner - 3 mojitos later - both Harry and I are feeling a little frisky. So far, in the past few weeks we've been together, we haven't really done anything but kiss. I went down on Harry once, but he started to get uncomfortable since I wouldn't let him return the favor, so our sex life has been at a standstill.

"Mmm, so hot for you," Harry slurs as he wraps an arm around me.

"Me too," I say, jumping onto my bed.

Harry straddles me and starts to kiss me, and suddenly, I can't even think straight. I kiss him back, chewing lightly on his bottom lip. He enters his tongue into my mouth and I moan softly.

So hot.

Harry gyrates his hips against mine a bit and then starts to remove his shirt. I want so badly to remove mine too, to remove everything, but I can't. Even when I'm drunk, I know I can't.

"I wanna please you, baby," Harry whimpers, stroking my chest.

His hand drifts to my bulge and I bite my tongue. I want it so bad - I want him so bad.

Harry starts to unbutton my pants and I can't resist, I just let him do it. When he tries to tug them down, further, though I stop him.

"Embarrassed of my thighs," I mumble. And that's really not a lie. I am, I still think I'm fat - despite losing all the weight I gained from outpatient. Despite lying to everyone. I'm never satisfied.

"Okay," Harry breathes, tugging my pants down just low enough to reach my cock.

He slowly takes it into his mouth, beginning to suck violently and I grab his hair, moaning in pleasure. Harry swirls his tongue along my shaft and suctions my tip, cupping my balls all the while.

"Fuck, amazing," I moan.

Harry continues, this time sucking harder and faster. It's not too long before I feel myself begin to release. "Gonna cum," I shout.

Without hesitation, Harry swallows, and then looks up at me with a sly smile, licking the white, hot liquid off his lips.

"Did you like it?" he whispers.

"Yeah," I reply, panting. "Haz, can I.... can we have sex? Can I fuck you?"

Harry's eyes widen, and he nods, slowly.

Without removing my pants, I position myself behind him and start fingering him to get him ready. Harry shakes his hips and moans in response as I hit his prostate, slamming on it with my knuckles.

"Ready," he groans.

I nod and start to pull off my pants. He can't see me from behind.

Taking a deep breath, I slowly slip inside him and start thrusting. I quickly pick up the pace until I'm smashing against him with my hips, riding him harder than I ever have before.

"You feel so good," I moan. But Harry is silent.

He wrinkles his nose and then turns around to look at me. "Lou, fuck, can you stop for a sec?"

I stop and lock eyes with him, wondering what's wrong.

"Your hip bones are really hurting me," he says quietly, turning around to face me.

When he sees my legs, he gasps. And that's when I realize how stupid it was to take my pants off. Now he knows....

"Oh my god," Harry says, his eyes watering. "I thought you were cleared. I thought you were better."

I shrug and lie through my teeth. "I am, I just have naturally thin legs. It's genetics."

"No, you don't," Harry cries. He lunges towards me and pulls at my shirt, frowning when he notices the undershirt beneath it.

Then, he pulls that up too, lifting it up until he can see my ribs, and he starts to cry.

"You are so sick," he sobs. "What the fuck happened? I thought you were getting better. How was I so stupid that I didn't notice this?"

I stare at him, a mixture of nausea and fear washing over me. I should be concerned about how badly I'm hurting my boyfriend, but I'm more concerned about how I'm probably going to get sent to rehab. Probably going to be forced to gain weight.

Why the fuck am I so selfish?

"Louis, fucking answer me. How did this happen? How long has this been going on for?" he says, pulling away from me.

I look down the blankets, unanswering. "Not long, I'm fine. They cleared me, remember?"

"They would not clear you looking like that, Louis. You must have done something - did you mess with the scale?" he asks.

I shake my head.

"What did you fucking do then, Louis? You lied to them, just like you've been lying to me... oh my god!" Harry cries into his hands, pulling his knees up to his chest.

"I told you everything about my relapse, all of it. And you just lie to me, Louis? Even worse, you lie to your fucking doctors? What did you fucking do? Fucking tell me," Harry shouts. "It's the least you could do."

I stare at Harry, who's crying into his hands, completely broken. I broke him - I did that. With my lies, with my selfishness. I let my eating disorder take priority over everything else, even my boyfriend...

"I tricked the scales," I choke out, looking away from him. "It's been going on for a little more than a month... I found these weights in my brother's storage unit. Got the idea. It was never supposed to get this bad... I just wanted to stop gaining weight for a while. Get them off my back. Then I started losing it.... I just wanted out, Harry, I just wanted freedom. I couldn't take it. I was crying every day...."

Harry comes closer to me, his face softening from a frown to a more neutral expression. "You could have told me."

"I know I could have, I'm so sorry, Harry. I'm so sorry I let you down. I'm sorry I lied. I'm sorry for all of it. I just can't.... stop," I cry.

Harry moves next to me and strokes my back softly. "Hey, baby, it's okay. It's okay. People relapse, it's okay. Just, you should have told me, I could have tried to help."

"I thought you'd send me away," I sniffle. "I just wanted the pain to stop, this was the only way. Starving is the only way, Harry. Nothing else works."

Harry wraps his arms around me. "There are other ways, Lou. I promise you there are. What do you always tell me about cutting? You tell me it'll get better with time. That the urge will go away. It's the same for you."

"It never goes away for me though," I say. Snot is dribbling down my nose and I wipe it with my wrist.

"We have to get you proper help, babe. You can't live like this. You're not living, baby. You're dying," he says, kissing my head. "How did I not notice?"

"I hid it well. The baggy clothes, layers. I grew a beard to hide my thinning face," I admit. As I explain it to him, I realize how fucked up I am. How absolutely ridiculous this all is. "I am so awful... I am so horrible..."

"You're not," Harry assures me. "You're absolutely not, you just need help. You have to let me help you, Louis. You have to let me in."

"I can't," I sob. "I can't let anyone in. I can't trust anyone. She won't let me..."

"Your disorder?" Harry asks. "She won't let you?"

I nod, finally realizing how deep into this I am. Harry is offering me a way out - the doctors are too. Everyone is. But I won't take it. I can't.

"You can trust me, though, Louis. You know that right? Deep down, you know that, yeah?" he asks me, stroking my back.

"I... I think so," I say. My voice is hoarse from crying, and I nuzzle my head on Harry's shoulder, finally allowing him to hold me - fully hold me - for the first time in weeks.

"You know you can fight her," Harry says. "You can fight the voice. You were doing it before, when you were eating. You just have to try for longer next time, you have to be more patient."

"I can't eat again," I say, jerking my head up. "I can't, Harry, I got so fat I had rolls. It was disgusting."

It's true. I ended up breaking down and weighing myself a few weeks into outpatient. I had gained so much and I looked absolutely horrific.

"Babe, you never, ever did. You never even made it to the healthy range," Harry says. "You have to promise me you're gonna try again, Louis. I can't lose you."

"You won't lose me," I grumble.

"I will though. Remember when you had a seizure? When you passed out? It could be worse next time," Harry shudders. "You could lose me too, if I don't stop cutting. We both have to fight this, Louis. And if you stop fighting, I might just give up and stop fighting too... because you're my reason, love."

I blink at Harry. I didn't know I was his reason to go on.

"I... I don't want you to give up," I stammer.

"And I don't want you to, either," he says. "So, why don't we do this together?"

I stare at him and think about everything. The daily lies, the joint pain, the hair loss, the constant dizziness. Always being cold. I don't want that anymore, I really don't. I want to be normal. I want to be normal for HARRY.

"Okay," I say, taking a deep breath. "Okay, okay. I will."

"Promise me, Lou," Harry says, kissing my head. "You will tell me EVERYTHING. No matter how big or how small."

"I promise," I say, swallowing thickly.

I just hope I can keep it.

a/n: super long chapter woo. this was really emotional and triggering sorry about that. i will be open about it and admit that i did exactly what louis did when i was sick, and looking back on it, it's so horrible but it's out of nothing but desperation to stop the pain. eating disorders manipulate your mind and eventually nothing else matters to you but starving - not even your relationships.


	26. improvement

April 23

Harry's POV

"Hey, love," I say, setting down our breakfast on the counter. Since I found out about Louis' relapse a few weeks ago, I've been doing my best to eat as many meals as I can with him. Even if it means waking up early and coming to his house before work.

"Tired," Louis groans, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I know, baby," I say as I hand him his plate of eggs and toast. "But we have work today. Do you want your gummy now or later?"

"Now, please," Louis says, laughing. "I fucking need it."

I smile and go into the cabinet to get Louis' gummies. One of his doctors had the genius idea of getting him a medical marijuana card, and so far it's been working wonders on his appetite and his anxiety. Louis still has a tough time eating, but nowhere near as bad as before. In fact, he's slowly starting to put weight on, and it warms my heart to see the color come back into his face, and the sheen return to his hair.

"Ugh, can I eat this after the gummy kicks in?" Louis groans, mushing his eggs on his plate.

"You, can if you really want to," I say with a shrug. I've learned to give Louis more control because if I try to force him to do things, he'll just do the opposite.

His nurses have been monitoring his weigh ins to make sure he's not tricking the scales anymore, and he truly is making progress, so I've started to trust him more.

Louis sighs and looks at the plate. "No, I'll just eat now. Thanks for helping me get this gig, by the way. I'm so excited to work on the Adidas commercial."

"That was all Niall's doing. He's the one who got Adidas as a client anyways," I say. "But of course I'd invite you on board. We need writers like you, Lou. You're so talented."

"And I know about football, unlike some people!" he chuckles, taking a bite of the eggs.

"I messed up one technicality and now I'm going down in history as the world's least educated football fan. Wonderful," I say with a dramatic eye roll.

Louis giggles and then hands me his plate, which is mostly cleaned aside from the crusts of the toast.

"Awesome," I say, planting a kiss on his head. "Gonna get dressed?"

Louis nods and rushes to the bedroom, emerging a few minutes later in loose fitting slacks and a white collared shirt. We've been on really shaky ground in terms of intimacy, ever since his relapse. Oftentimes, still doesn't want me to see him still. It breaks my heart, but I don't want to push him too far or make him uncomfortable.

"Lou," I said quietly a few nights ago as we were cuddling over a Netflix show.

"Hmm?" he looked up, rolling on the bed towards me. He was dressed in a ridiculous pair of baggy flannel pajamas, even though it was almost summer.

"I know you don't like me seeing you as you get healthier," I said, carefully avoiding the word 'weight gain' as I knew it would set it off. "But I just want you to know it's okay to feel uncomfortable. There's no shame in it, yeah?"

Louis nods, cuddling up against me. "I know, Haz."

"Okay, then look," I began. I took a deep breath and rolled my boxers, showing Louis the very tops of my thighs. "It's not just my arms and wrists. I used to do it here too...."

Louis peered over at my thighs with curious eyes and extended a hand, looking to me for permission. I nodded and he started to touch the skin. The scars had faded long ago but the skin was still bumpy and raised.

"Haz," Louis breathed. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't be sorry, babe," I replied, taking his hands. "I'm just showing you, we all have our insecurities. That's why I wear boxers and not briefs. I used to love briefs... But maybe I'll wear them again, yeah? To get more comfortable."

Louis nodded understandingly. "Yeah. You know I can... Harry I can get undressed in front of you. I'm just not super pleased with my body. They're not letting me work out, so the weight is coming on soft..."

"You look amazing," I cooed into his ear, nibbling a bit on his lobe. "And you don't have to."

Louis shrugged and started to take off his clothes. "No, I will. I can and it's fine."

I sat back, half smiling as he revealed his body to me. My heart melted when his shirt and pants hit the floor. He was still thin, but looked so much b e t t e r. His bony edges were slowly being replaced by a softer frame, a curvy physique which had always suited him from the start. And he carried a little extra weight on his tummy, which was normal for anorexic patients - the first bits of weight go there to protect their organs.

Louis made a face that made me question whether he would cry or sneeze, and I wrapped him in my arms, covering his body in kisses, starting with his collarbones then travelling down to his chest, stomach and thighs. "Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful. I'm going to say it until you believe it."

Louis squirmed, pulling away from me a bit. "I might never believe it," he admitted.

"One day you will," I replied, stroking his hair softly. I hugged him and he nestled his head on my right shoulder, attacking it with kisses.

"Haz, we're gonna be late," Louis bellows, snapping me out of my daydream.

"Righto," I reply, heading after him. We step into the hall and take the elevator to the lobby, quickly rushing down the block and to the train.

"Hey, is Jessica gonna bring James by today?" Louis asks as we get into the train car.

Fuck, I had forgotten about that. I'm still waiting on the retrial, so things have been rough lately with my son. But I worked out a system with Jessica - Eliza's sister - so that I could see James once or twice a week. She often helps babysit him when Eliza goes out, and I've begged and pleaded so much that she's agreed to let me see him once and a while. Eliza has no idea.

"She might," I reply, wrapping an arm around Louis' waist. "You're so good with him. I had no idea."

Louis shrugs. "I just know what kids like. Food and cuddles."

"That's what I like too, Tommo," I say, cupping my face in my hands so I look like a cherub.

"Of course, you do," Louis says to me using an exaggerated baby voice.

"Oh fuck off, we have some serious sports writing to do now, Mister," I say, deepening my voice.

The people on the train are now staring at us, but I don't care one bit. Louis is adorable and hilarious and I'll be damned if we don't do a character sketch right here and right now.

"That's our stop!" I giggle, pulling Louis by the hand. He follows me out, skipping excitedly onto the platform and I tussle his hair.

It brings me so much joy to see Louis doing so well. Just a few weeks ago, he barely had enough energy to leave the house, but now he's been cleared to go to work, and the way the new diet is effecting his energy levels is astounding.

That's not to say that he's 100%. Or even 70%. He still has his difficult days. There are still days I'll find him sobbing in the back of his closet, or going at it obsessively at the gym even though he's not allowed to. There are days when he falls off the wagon, but he always gets back up and tries again. He always keeps on fighting.

And that's what I love about him.

"Lou," I say, chasing after him as we make our way up the stairs. "You know, I probably told you this before... but I just wanna say that you inspire me so much."

We reach the top of the steps and Louis turns to me, sliding one leg onto the railing. It's rush hour time and there are tons of people rushing about, but it feels like we're alone. Those people are just blurry blobs of color. My focus is one Louis and his big blue eyes and his gorgeous hair and his adorable smile. Nothing else matters.

"Harry, you inspire me too," he says, smiling. He moves his mouth to my ear, lowering his voice. "Honestly, I know it's fucked up... but if it weren't for you, I would probably be... fuck, I would probably be dead right now."

I return my gaze to Louis, my eyes watering. "Don't even say that, darling."

"It's true though," Louis says, hopping off the railing and taking my hand.

"I probably would be too," I admit, gripping my wrist. "You bring out the best in me."

Louis and I end the emotional moment with a sloppy kiss, and then hustle to the office. We're already late, after all, and Niall will not be happy.

"Lou, Harry! Get in there- we're doing a brainstorming session and we need your brains," Niall shouted, pushing the the two of us into the meeting room as soon as they arrived.

"Right, Niall, sorry," I mutter before taking a seat.

"It was Harry's fault!" Louis chuckles, playfully batting his eyelashes at me.

"Ok, ok. Time to get down to business," Liam says with a not-so-subtle eye roll. "What color scheme are we using for this campaign?"

Louis opens his folder and whips out a color palette, nearly prancing to the front of the room.

"Harry and I spoke with them last night. They want vibrant colors for summer. So we chose this yellow, this red and this blue."

He sets the palette down on the table and Liam and Niall eye it carefully.

"Looks good. I like that idea. And did you come up with a —?"

"A script. Yup. Last night!" Louis chimes in. I sit back and put my hands behind my head. Normally, I don't like being overshadowed in a meeting, but I haven't seen Louis this excited about a project in a long time. It's great to see him happy.

"Cool, cool. Let's pull those up then," Niall says.

"Harry did you do anything to contribute to this at all?" Liam giggles.

I roll my eyes and shrug. "I stood there and looked pretty."

A/n: a happy chapter :)


	27. failure

Louis' POV 

Trigger: Eating disorder behaviors 

April 26

"Hey, ready for breakfast?" Harry asks. We have a big meeting today and I know I have to eat but I can't bring myself to. 

"Mmm, maybe later," I say with a shrug. Harry gives me a curious look but shrugs and sets the table anyways. 

"Okay, well get dressed and see how you feel? Do you want your gummy?" Harry asks. 

Fuck. The fucking gummies. The fucking weed gummies. I'm so sick of those. Without answering, I shake my head and go to my room to grab some clothes. 

After contemplating for a bit, I decide upon a pair of black slacks and a blue button down. I quickly pull on the shirt, which is a bit baggy, and then slide on the pants. 

Holy shit. No. No, no, no.

They're too tight. 

Tears well up in my eyes as I realize how stupid I've been. Everyone tells me "You're not fat, you're healthy, you look so much better." I should never have believed that garbage. I am so fat - so fucking fat. Only getting fatter by the day. 

I rip the pants off - couldn't even button those things- and grab another pair that are stretchier. That's what this comes down to. Stretchy pants. That's how gross I am.

Harry must have noticed that I was taking a long time changing because he knocks on the door. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, just washing my face," I lie. Once I get the pants up, I head into the kitchen to grab my laptop.

Harry has laid out my breakfast. Eggs and toast, with butter. Ugh. Next to the food is a glass of orange juice, and the gummy.

I resist the urge to take all of it and throw it off the table, smashing it into a million pieces against the ground. How the fuck did I let myself get this big? I feel like vomiting.

"I know you said you didn't wanna eat, but in case you changed your mind... otherwise we'll just make a sandwich of it and wrap it in tin foil so you can have it later," Harry suggests. He's smiling, his big eyes all green and sparkly.

But I'm not. I'm fuming. 

"I fucking told you I didn't want to eat now," I snap, shoving my laptop into my bag. 

"I know but -- " Harry interjects. 

"And that I didn't want the gummy!" I say. My voice raises an octave and I curl my hands into fists.

"Okay, I know. I'm sorry," Harry says softly.

But it's too late. I run towards the table, dumping all of it into the garbage disposal. The food, the juice, the gummy.

"I don't want it! I don't fucking want it!" I scream.

"Louis, it's okay," Harry says, putting a hand on my back.

I whirl around, locking eyes with him. "Don't. Touch. Me."

"Okay," Harry says, stepping back. "W-what's wrong? Are you okay?"

I shake my head, wiping away tears. "I'm so fucking disgusting."

"No you're not," Harry says. He's tearing too a little.

"My fucking pants don't fit, Harold! That's how fat I've gotten," I growl. It feels so awful to even say it out loud. But that's the truth - that's what I've become.

"What? Lou, your clothes are so small from when you were ill, you just need new ones, that's all," Harry says calmly. 

I shake my head. "No, fucking no, Harry. I know you're all lying. I should just weigh myself. Then I'll know the truth."

"Louis -- no!" Harry says, stepping in front of me. "Let's just go to work, yeah?"

I shake my head and push past him, darting to the closet where I've been hiding the scale. 

Harry tries to grab me by the shoulders, but I elbow him and step onto it. I hold my breath until the numbers on the screen settle.

Oh my fucking god. Jesus. 

I had gained SO MUCH weight. More than I could ever have imagined - more than I needed to. 

"Oh my god!" I sob, stepping off of it. "I literally can't trust anyone. This is so disgusting."

I run to the pantry and take out the bottle of weed gummies, pouring them into the garbage disposal along with the rest of it. 

"You made me take this shit. All it did was make my extreme hunger worse- a fucking appetite booster! You were drugging me. You said 'just eat until you feel full.' Well I was never full, was I?" I scream. 

"Louis, we weren't drugging you. You were literally taking the smallest possible dose. It was mostly controlling your anxiety," Harry replied as he rushed over to me. 

"Harry, I don't fucking want to hear it," I say, pushing him roughly away. "Because I know better than to trust the doctors. Than to trust the stupid nutritionist. I know they all just want me fat and gross. But I trusted you... and that was the biggest mistake of my life."

"Louis. Jesus Christ, I get that you're hurting and that it's uncomfortable to gain weight. But you were fucking sick. You're still sick - that's why you're reacting like this. You have this disorder clouding your mind, clouding your vision," Harry says. "You are NOT fat. Nowhere near it."

"Then why did you say it? Why did you tell me that Harry, huh? In the bar. Why?" I ask, pressing a finger against his chest. 

"Because I was a fucking idiot. I was taking out my anger on you - Louis, we've been down this road before," Harry says, shaking his head. I can see tears dripping down his cheeks but I don't care. He should be crying.

"Listen, I will never forgive myself for that. But that was then, and this is now. I'm telling you now.... that you are not fat, Louis. You went from an unnaturally low weight to a healthy one. That's a fucking accomplishment, not something to cry over," he continues. 

"Oh," I say, laughing almost as the rage continues to wash over me. "Oh, right. I should just be fucking celebrating!"

"Louis," Harry says. "Babe. I get that it's hard to accept. I know you're hurting. But please, can you just be nice to yourself?"

"Why should I?" I pout. "I'm gross."

"Okay, Louis, come here," Harry says. He grabs my shoulders gently and guides me over to the couch. I don't want him touching me, so I pull away, but continue to follow him. 

I sit down on the couch, leaving several inches of space between the two of us. Harry takes out his laptop and opens it. 

"Okay, we're gonna make a list of all the things you like about yourself," Harry says, pulling open a new document. 

"Nothing," I say with a dramatic eye roll.

"Okay, then I'll make it. So for one, you are doing so, so well at work. You made that presentation and you're slaying the Adidas campaign," Harry says excitedly. He types that out 'slaying Adidas campaign.'

"That's one thing," I snap.

"Anddd," Harry continues. "Your blog is doing really well with your new poetry collection. You helped Liam through his breakup. You gave Niall new business ideas. And you have a boyfriend who loves you very fucking much."

I stare at Harry, unblinking. "Wait, what?"

Harry stares at me, his face flushed crimson. "Oh my god..."

We had never said the L word before. I don't even know what to do.

"Well," Harry says, turning to face me. "It's true. I do love you. I have for a while now."

I stare at him, unmoving, not knowing what to say. "W-why?"

Why??? Is that all I can come up with?! Holy fucking shit. I want to run to my room and hide under the covers, but I don't. I just sit there, staring at Harry, waiting for an answer.

"Because, Louis," Harry says quietly. He sets the laptop down on the coffee table and scoots in towards me. "Because of all those things I listed. You're so smart and talented, you love to write. You care so much about your friends. You're funny, always make me laugh. You're strong - you almost always have a smile on your face, despite what you've been through. That's why I love you. And on top of that, you're gorgeous. You're so great on the inside that your looks a just a bonus for me. Those blue eyes, that perfect hair. Your jawline that could cut through granite... your body. I know you hate it, but I find it so incredibly sexy. Every inch of you, your neck, your chest, your stomach, your thighs...."

"Harry," I snort, nearly laughing. "That is so sweet. Thank you. Sounds like you're writing a fucking love poem about me."

Harry blushes and sits up quickly to re-open his laptop. "I actually -um. I've written a few. Just never had the guts to show them to you."

"Oh my god," I gush. I wrap and arm around Harry's waist with one hand and stroke his thigh with the other. Suddenly, I forget about how I upset I am. Nothing else matters right now. Nothing but Harry.

"Should I read it?" Harry asks, shyly. He blinks a few times, sending his long lashes fluttering, and I nod. 

"Okay. Here it goes:

Louis 

I am so sorry 

For all the hurt I caused you 

But the first time I saw you 

I couldn't look away 

In that dimly-lit bar 

I saw you from a far 

And from that day on

I thought of you each day

Louis

You hated me

I understand why 

I tried so many times 

To apologize 

One day you decided to believe 

I told you I would never leave 

You let me hold you 

But it broke me

To see you so sick 

So ill, so lonely 

I told you the truth 

I was ill once too 

Still am sometimes 

Your big blue eyes 

Never looked so bright

Louis

You let me in

I never looked back 

But your bruises turned 

From green to black

You bled so hard 

I held your hand

When you stood up

I was your man

Louis

I never loved someone so much

I never craved someone's touch

The way I crave yours 

Louis

I'm so sorry and I still am

But I hope I can make things up to you

Though, I'm not sure I ever can."

Tears are streaming down my cheeks now, and I look over at Harry to find him in the same, teary-eyed state. 

Pushing the laptop aside, I lean in towards Harry and hug him, nuzzling my head onto his chest like I always do.

"I love you so much," I whimper, pressing my head into his shoulder blade. 

Harry pulls my head up gently, so our faces are nearly touching. His green eyes are wide with excitement. "R-really? Do you? You don't have to say it just because.... I... said it.."

"No," I say, pushing a loose curl out of his eye. "I do. I do love you. I have for a while too. I love everything about you, the way you write, the way you talk, the way you treat others. I just didn't think you could love someone like me, in my state. So I never said it."

"Nonsense, love," Harry says. He kisses me chastely on the lips and I swirl my tongue in his mouth, climbing up onto his lap so I'm straddling him. "I would only ever love someone like you."

"I fucking loved that poem," I breathe between kisses. I'm cupping Harry's jaw now, planting kisses on his neck and collarbone. 

"I'm glad you did, I was afraid it was too dark," Harry says softly. 

I shake my head. "Not too dark. Perfect."

"I'm glad then," Harry says, running his fingers through his hair. He shoots me a sexy smile before reaching for his phone. "So what do you say we call in late to work....."

I smirk at him and tug at his shirt. "Yeah, I think I would like that, Harry."

A/n: the story is almost over! probably gonna end at chapter 30.


	28. introductions

A/n: sorry it kinda seemed like the previous chapter was going to lead into smut but I didn't wanna take it there. I promise you there will be a full blown smut scene before the end of the story.

May 3

Harry's POV

"Hey, Jess. Thanks so much for doing this," I say hurriedly as she hands me the baby carrier.

"No problem, I'll be back at 6pm," she replies, heading down the hall.

I take the carrier inside and place it on the couch. James is wearing denim shorts and a white T-shirt that says 'Mommy loves me' written with cartoon lipstick. I nearly snort as I imagine going to the store to pick this out. How narcissistic could she be?

Smiling, I sit next to James on the couch and turn the carrier so it's facing me. He blinks black at me with an expressionless look on his face. His eyes used to be grey when he was first born, but now they're starting to lighten a bit. I wonder if they will turn out blue like Eliza's or green like mine. His hair, which is platinum blonde, is swept to the side. He's only a few weeks old, but he looks like a tiny little heartbreaker.

"Hi, daddy's gonna take care of you today," I coo, giving him my finger to play with. He grabs onto it, shooting me a questioning look and then pushes my hand away and releases a loud cry.

Oh god.

"It's okay, sorry to upset you," I say to myself, knowing full well he can't understand me. I unclip the safety straps and take him out of the carrier, holding him on my chest and stroking his back.

When that doesn't seem to help, I try rocking him slowly in my arms. His soft little body feels warm against my skin and I can't help but smile. But James isn't smiling. He's screaming bloody murder.

"Jesus, Harry," Louis screams from the back room. He had been finishing up a pitch when Jessica arrived and I didn't want to disturb him.

"Sorry, babe -- I... I'll take care of it," I shout over my shoulder. As I do so, James grabs a hold of one my curls and tugs. It's actually much more painful than I expected.

A few seconds later, I hear rapid footsteps thumping through my flat and to the living room. "Give him to me," Louis huffs, extending his arms.

Louis is wearing grey track pants with a white T-shirt. Ever since he outgrew those work pants, he's been living in athleisure wear. I keep trying to tell him it's okay to get new clothes, but he won't listen, and I simply can't force him, so I've left it alone.

I feel bad though. I just want him to feel comfortable in his skin. Sadly, you can't rush the process and all I can do is support him.

"Hiiii, James," Louis coos, flipping him over onto his stomach. "Yeah, Harry he took a massive dump. I could smell it from the other room."

Louis starts laughing at me and goes into the diaper bag Jess also dropped off. "You're on diaper duty, babe," he says as he hands me the bag. "I'll distract him."

I wrinkle my nose, annoyed that Jess left James with me with a fresh load in his pants. This isn't the first time this has happened, and I'm starting to think she's doing it on purpose.

Louis waves a toy in James' face and he bats at it will I attempt to remove the diaper. It takes me a minute to locate where the sticky part is, and then I undo it, revealing a giant wet poo.

"Ewww," I groan, covering my mouth. Louis' eyes widen and he giggles at me as I struggle.

I take the dirty diaper and throw it away in the bathroom. When I return, I wipe up the mess and put on a fresh diaper, making sure to apply some diaper cream so he doesn't get a rash.

"That was god awful," I say as a wave of nausea comes over me. "I hope this kid realizes that I used to do this when he's 16 and angsty and telling me he hates me."

Louis scoops James up, and sits down next to me, planting a kiss on my cheek. "He better, Haz. I've never seen someone look so green."

"Oh fuck off," I chuckle. "I mean-- get off my back. Jesus, James is gonna grow up cussing now."

"He'll be fine," Louis says, covering the baby's ears. James is nearly asleep in Louis' arms now, and Louis is rubbing gentle circles on his back, helping to relax him.

"Honestly, Lou, you would make a way better dad than me," I admit as I rub the back of my head. "I don't know the first thing about kids."

Louis shrugged. "I mean, I had a lot of younger siblings growing up. I learned to help out. You'll catch onto it."

"Yeah, but... I don't know, I enjoy you spending time with James. It's so sweet," I reply. Louis gives me a curious look, tracing his bottom lip with his tongue.

"I enjoy it too. He's a cute baby," Louis says. "I feel like you're trying to tell me something though.... Haz?"

He raises an eyebrow in my direction and I freeze up. "I mean, nothing, I dunno," I stammer. "I kinda just... maybe if we get serious... I don't know Louis. It was stupid. He's my son, you don't have to help me. I'm sure it's annoying."

James is asleep now and Louis puts a finger to his lips as he slowly carries him back to his carrier. Once he's in, he drapes a little blue blanket over his lap and then motions for me to sit further away on the couch, so we don't disturb him.

"No, Harry. I don't mind helping one bit. And that's a great idea, I mean yeah, I don't know what the future holds, but if we did end up together, of course I would help out with James all the time," he says. "It would actually be easier because we wouldn't have to go through that whole surrogate process...."

My eyes fly open as Louis says that, but I turn away. He can't know how excited I am to hear that. We've only been dating for a few months... it's way too soon to be thinking about things like that, isn't it?

"That's awesome," I say, struggling to keep my voice down. "Yeah, yeah. Sorry if this so heavy and serious.... we only just met not too long ago, but I feel like I've known you for longer."

Louis strokes my hand, running a thumb over some of the chipped grey nail polish on my fingernails. "It's true. We've both been through some shit. I feel like it brought us together. It's okay. I don't mind thinking of the future. Takes my mind off the demons in my head."

"Same," I reply, giving Louis' hand a small squeeze. "And you. Anything related to you and your adorable face. How are you, by the way? Like for real?"

Louis shrugs and turns his head so that his cheek is pressing into his shoulder. "I already went to therapy yesterday, Harold," he groans.

I slip a hand around his shoulder and pull him in towards me. "I know, baby, but I gotta check up on you."

Louis' blue irises flick upwards and meet with my green ones. "Fine, Harold. But let's start with you first then. Gotta check up on you too."

"Okay," I say. "Well, the new therapist is working out well. She's actually kind of funny and talks to me like I'm just a person, not a patient. The negative thoughts are still there, especially with the court date approaching. But I know I can't numb out like that anymore. Usually, I'll just pull up a photo of my boys..."

I pause and show Louis my phone background, which is a selfie of me, him and James. We honestly look like a family, and I think that's what I love about it.

"Oh my god, Harold, that's so sweet," Louis says, taking the phone from my hands. He stretches out his legs and lays down on his back with his head in my lap. "Love it, love it, love it."

"So what about you?" I ask. I reach down and massage his temples, as I know he gets tension headaches quite easily. Especially when James is here screaming like a gun went off.

"Mmm, good," Louis says with a shrug. "Like, I'm fine. I'm eating fine. They're making me have dessert now, as you know, which has been bloody awful. I can't get past the guilt usually and just want to exercise after. But I only did once. Therapist says to keep thinking of food as fuel and to have mantras to combat the voice. But they're really dumb.... I don't want to do them."

"What kind of mantras?" I ask curiously. "I've used them before too and I find them helpful. I'm sure they're not stupid. Mine were 'you are stronger than this' and 'the pain is temporary.'"

Louis sits back up next to me, and opens a note on his phone. "Well, she told me to come up with them myself, so I tried. But they don't feel right. I don't know Harry."

He hands me the phone and I scan through the list of quotes written down.

"Food is fuel. It doesn't make you fat

Dessert is not bad for you

It's not my job to lose weight

I am not meant to be thin

This is not making me happy."

"Aww, Lou," I say. "These are all really good. I think they're amazing, you should really try using those."

Louis squirms away from my touch but I scoop him up swiftly, just like he had with James earlier. "Thanks," he replies. "Maybe, it just feels so odd."

"Sometimes," I say, pushing loose hairs out of his eyes. "You have to say things over and over - or write them down - until you believe them. Retraining your mind, ya know?"

"I know," Louis replies softly. "I'm just scared to try."

"Why's that?" I ask.

"Because what if I succeed... and I do get better," Louis chokes. "There's a part of me that still desperately wants to be sick.... doesn't want me to get better."

"Lou, babe," I say, pressing a kiss onto his forehead. "I know exactly what you mean. Sadly that part of you is always gonna be there, at least to some extent. You just have to learn to quiet it down. You will - remember just a few months ago? It was so strong then, you were always angry and upset, but now you're so much more yourself."

Louis chews nervously on his bottom lip. "I know you're right. I'm gonna try harder. I'm almost there, yeah?"

"Yeah, you are," I reply. "But there's no rush, as long as you move forward little by little."

"I know," Louis says. "It's true. Also, Harry, not to interrupt but I think we invited Liam and Niall over for tea.... right about now."

"Fuck!" I say, standing up. "Didn't realize it was the same day James was here."

Just then, there's a knock on the door.

"Uhhh, just a second," I say, not knowing what to do with James, whose eyes are now fluttering open.

"Calm the fuck down, love," Louis giggles. He grabs James' carrier and heads to the door. "Hey, guys!"

"Oh my fucking god!" I hear Niall shout from the hall. "Is that-- is he? Oh my god. So cute!"

I head to the door and peek my head out over Louis. "Yeah, this is my kid. James."

"Awww," Liam gushes. His brown eyes light up and Louis steps back, allowing the guys inside. "Can I hold him?"

"Yeah, just don't drop him," I say warily.

Louis sets down the carrier and takes James out, handing him to Liam. Liam holds him tightly with both hands and rests him on one shoulder.

"Oh my god, Niall, look how cute!!" he says.

Niall darts behind Liam and starts making faces at the baby. I have half a mind to take out my phone and record this. Who knew these men liked children so much?

"Aww, Harry, I think he has your nose!" Niall tells me excitedly. James lets out a small sound in response. "See, he's laughing at my jokes. You love Uncle Niall, don't ya? I'm gonna teach you to golf."

"You will do no such thing," I reply, taking James off of Liam's shoulder.

"Bruh," Liam says, dramatically. "I only had him for a second!"

"His mind won't be corrupted with speak of golf. I won't have it!" I say.

"Oh my gosh, you guys," Louis says, placing his hands on his hips. "I'm gonna go make tea. Earl Grey okay?"

"Yup!" Niall replies.

"Fine by me," Liam says.

Liam, Niall and I take a seat on the couch while we wait for Louis to make the tea. Liam and Niall take turns holding James, who, for whatever reason is extremely docile at the moment. Lord knows what's causing him to stay quiet, but I'm not even questioning it.

"Here you are, you lazy fucks," Louis says, returning to the living room with a tray of tea cups.

"Ahhhhh," Niall gasps. "No cursing in front of the baby, you fool!"

"Fool isn't a very nice word either," Liam points out.

"Okay, you all need to calm down," Louis replies. "It's Harry's son. Of course he'll turn out cursing. Cursing and writing love poems."

"That's true," I giggle.

"Oh, by the way, Harry," Liam says, switching to a more serious tone. "Niall and I pulled a few strings, and um, well, Ni tell him..."

"Right, so we have this big shot lawyer friend. We asked him ages ago and he finally told us today. He's gonna represent you," Niall says excitedly. "I'll send you his number. He already has a Personal Investigator all over Eliza and is looking through her records. Did you know she was arrested in Mexico is 2011? There's no way you'll lose with Bryce on your case."

"Holy shit," I say, my eyes widening. "That's fucking awesome. Thank you so much guys. You didn't have to do that."

"Of course we did," Liam says. "You're one of our best mates. And we know how much this little guy means to ya. Eliza sucks. That needs to come out in court."

"Aww, well it means the world to me, guys," I say, leaning in to hug them. Louis takes James off of Liam's chest so I can hug him.

"Thanks, Lou," I say, kissing his cheek softly. "You're seriously the best with James. I think he likes you better than me."

"Actually, he likes me the best," Niall announces pointing a thumb at his own chest.

"Um, no, that would be me," Liam interrupts.

In that moment, James pukes all over Louis shirt. To my surprise, Louis doesn't even flinch.

"Well, I'm definitely not my favorite," Louis says, getting up to clean himself.

"No," I reply. "But you're my favorite."

A/n: aww this was so cute to right. i always wanted to write a fic where harry was a father idk this just seemed so right.


	29. clothes

May 10

Louis' POV

A/n: Louis has body dsymorphia which means he sees a distorted image of himself. He's not fat at all - but he thinks he is. He went from being really thin to average size. The problem is he can't see it.

"Harry, do we have to go?" I ask, anxiously toying with my phone in my pocket.

Harry's green eyes blink at me and he frowns sympathetically. "We don't have to, baby. But it's gonna be good for you. I'll do some shopping too. And we can look at sneakers too, not just clothes."

"Fine, you got me with the sneakers," I huff as I follow him out of the flat. "We have that Adidas discount from work now too!"

"You and your Adidas," Harry giggles as we head outside together.

On the train ride to the mall, I cuddle against Harry's shoulder and try to match my breathing with his. I'm so anxious that I'm nearly shaking, but feeling Harry's breath against my face helps calm me down and I stroke his hand slowly, closing my eyes.

When the train stops, My hand slips a bit and lands on his forearm. I can feel the scars that are hiding beneath his tattoos and look up at him with wide eyes. "I love you," I whisper.

"Love you too, cutie," Harry says. "That's our stop."

We rise to our feet and begin our trek up the subway steps to the entrance of the mall. I swallow thickly as I look up at the large glass building. I really don't want to do this. I really don't want to get new clothes, because if I get new clothes it means it's really over. It means I'm really giving in and accepting my new weight. My new, bloody ridiculously high weight.

Ugh.

When I started my diet and began losing weight, I threw out all my bigger clothes, telling myself I would never be that gross again. That I would only wear extra Small's and nothing more. Now here I am, about to buy the exact sizes I had thrown away.

"Where do you wanna go first?" Harry asked, grabbing my hand.

"Ummm.... Primark?" I said with a shrug.

"Okay, sure," Harry replied. "Lets go!"

A few minutes later, we are inside the store and Harry is picking out about a million things for me. Jeans, pants, shorts, shirts, blazers.

"This would be so cute for work, wouldn't it?" Harry squeaked. "Honestly, I want one! I'll get one for you and one for me. And these jeans are so nice.... Louis, what do you think of these?"

I bite my lip, holding back tears. I used to love shopping for clothes, but now it just makes me feel like I'm going to be sick.

"They're nice. No matching blazers though," I reply hoarsely.

"Oh no," Harry says, his face falling. "I'm overwhelming you, aren't I? Sorry, Lou. I should let you pick it all out."

"Yeah you kind of are," I admit, shoving my hands into my trackies. "Ok, I'll pick a few."

I make my way around the store, feeling like a child lost in a grocery store. I don't even know where to begin.... or what size to even take....

Harry notices me struggling. "Maybe that's worse? What's bothering you?"

"Everything," I say. I'm laughing but my stomach hurts and I just want to run out of here and puke up my breakfast.

"Okay, well, wanna start with the clothes I picked? Just to try. Maybe that'll give you a sense of what you like," Harry suggests, pointing to the dressing room.

"Okay," I say shakily. I take the hangers from Harry and walk over to the employee at the changing room, who opens the door for me.

"I'll be waiting out here if you need anything," Harry says, pointing to the chair in the hallway next to all the mirrors.

Taking a deep breath, I hang up my clothes on the rack and start to remove my track pants and Tshirt. I usually try to avoid mirrors at all costs because of how shitty it makes me feel, but there's no avoiding the huge wall length mirror in front of me.

I stand there in my underwear, staring back into the mirror, taking in my every flaw. It takes everything in me not to cry out in horror. Things were way worse than I thought.

My arms are thick, but not muscular. Just gross. My chest is filled out, which wouldn't be such a bad thing, but again, it lacks the muscle definition I once had during football season. And my stomach - that's the fucking kicker for me. It's so soft and gross and bloated. It used to be completely flat, but now I look like a swallowed a fucking watermelon.

Shuddering, I allow my gaze to continue down to my thighs which are thick and filled out. And then I shift my focus to my ass - which looks like it could be its own country.

I want to cry right now. Truly. But harry is waiting outside and i have to do this. Wiping my eyes, I take a breath and grab the first things on the rack, a pair of jeans and a shirt. The shirt is a medium and it fits fine. A little loose, just how I like it. I can't wear anything tight anymore. I've gotten too big for it.

After getting the shirt on, I tug on the pants. To my disgust, They won't even get past my thighs. I look at the tag and nearly vomit. It's a fucking 36. The jeans I wore a few months ago were a 30.

I clench my fists and toss the pants to the ground, my eyes hot with tears and my throat feeling tight and painful. I pull on my joggers, hiding my disgusting body from my sight and sit on the bench, sobbing into my hands.

How the fuck did I allow this to happen?

In the midst of my breakdown, I hear Harry knock at the door. "Lou, babe. Are you okay?"

"Yeah," I choke. "Fine."

"Can I see the outfit?" Harry asks.

I don't answer. There's no way I'm putting that fucking outfit on again.

"Lou?" Harry knocks again.

"GIVE ME A FUCKING MINUTE HARRY," I shout. My voice comes our way louder than I expected and I bite my tongue. It's not his fault I'm so fat.

I stand up and open the door to show Harry the T-shirt, which is a dark blue with a green pocket. I'm not wearing the jeans anymore, but instead my track pants, which I honestly don't even feel comfortable in either anymore. My stomach is stretching against the waist band isn't it? And the swishy material is the only thing separating my huge thighs. That thigh gap i once had is gone forever.

"That looks nice!" Harry says excitedly when he sees me. "Why don't you pair the shirt with those nice jeans I got you? Or the shorts?"

He starts coming into the dressing room with me and looking through the clothes. "Here, try these!"

"Don't really wanna try on more jeans," I reply coldly.

"Oh, why not? I mean you don't have to, I just thought u could use some new ones," Harry replies. He gives me an odd look and I glare at him.

"I just don't want to Harry. Because I just tried on a pair, and I'm too fucking fat for the largest fucking size," I growl.

"What?" Harry stammers. "Lou, that's seriously not true."

"It's fucking true, I can even show you. I wouldn't want your eyes to burn," I spit. I'm shaking now, that's how upset I am.

"Lou," Harry says softly. "It's okay."

He knows better than to touch me. He steps back out of the dressing room, putting his hands in his pockets and frowning.

"I'm sorry you're upset. What can I do? Do you want to go home?" Harry asks softly.

I shake my head. "I don't want anything. I just want to be fit again."

"Louis, you ARE fit," Harry replies. He looks like he wants to cry right now. He always looks like he wants to cry when he sees me like this.

Why am I such an awful boyfriend? Why do I ruin everything I touch?

"Haz, I'm sorry but I just can't believe you. I look so bad— I feel sick right now, honestly," I say, nearly sobbing.

"But You know it's the body dysmorphia fucking with your mind," he says. "Just let me show you how good you look, yeah?

He steps towards me and I jerk away from him, putting my hands up defensively. "I don't wanna be touched right now."

"I know, I wasn't gonna touch you. I just wanted to see the clothes," Harry replies, taking a shirt off the rack. "Maybe if I come in and change with you, it'll help?"

"How the fuck could that possibly help?" I say. I'm laughing now, doubled over in a fit of hysteria. "You're thin as a rail, Harold. You'll just make me feel worse."

"Well, what do you wanna do?" Harry asks as he folds his arms across his chest. "Go home?"

Yes. I obviously want to go home. But the truth of the matter is there's hardly any clothes I can fit into for work. I have to at least get some pants here, and there's no way I'm coming back again.

"Yeah, but I have to get pants," I reply.

"Okay, well let's get pants. I'll go and get a few different sizes, yeah? Just to try," Harry suggests.

I nod, though I'm nowhere near thrilled with the idea, and wait for Harry as he shops for me. This is what it's come down to. Me sitting in a dressing room, nearly crying, because I'm too fat for my clothes. Because my body looks so disgusting I can hardly see it in the mirror without having a fit

"Hey, babe, here you go," Harry says, handing me the clothes from above the door.

Breathing in deeply, I remove my pants, this time turning away from the mirror. I start with the biggest pair, half expecting them to be too loose. But when I get them up my legs and they fit snugly, I want to bust the mirror with my bare hands.

"Lou?" Harry calls a few minutes later.

I don't even answer. I just sit there on the bench and sob, not caring if he hears. I'm a failure. I'm a fucking failure.

"Babe?" Harry asks again. When I don't reply, he stands on his tip toes, peeking over the top of the door.

When his green eyes locate me crying on the bench, I bury my face in my hands, mortified.

"Honey," Harry says. "Can I just come in?"

I don't want him to but i know he won't take no for an answer and can easily get the employee to get the key. I open the door and Harry sits down next to me on the bench, not touching me. Not saying anything.

I blink at him, waiting, and he inhales deeply in response.

"This feeling, It sucks so much right now," Harry begins. "But it doesn't last. You're gonna feel better with time. One day you're gonna see the beautiful, sexy man I see. I promise."

"Not sexy," i sniffle.

"You are Though. You look so hot in those pants - I wish you could see it," Harry sighs. "It's not about the size or the number on the scale. I know Thars all your mind can focus on - all the voice can focus on, but one day, it won't anymore."

"How do you know?" I ask. I can't imagine a life without those thoughts. I've only had them for a few months but it feels like a lifetime. An inescapable doom that I can never seem to break away from.

"I know because I used to hate myself too. I still do sometimes," Harry says, stroking his tattoos with his index finger. "I hate these scars. The ones on my thighs too. But I'm learning to love myself. Slowly. For you. For James."

"What if I never learn?" I ask, biting my lip.

"Then i will just keep on telling you you're beautiful until you believe it," Harry says.

He extends a hand now, and I take it, softly squeezing it. His palms are warm and much bigger than mind. They make me feel safe.

"Haz, If you saw me in these clothes you'd know I'm not," i argue.

"I see you," Harry replies, smiling. "And you're so so gorgeous. Every inch of you."

I shake my head and stand up, determined to show him. I pull off my shirt and then my pants, standing there in nothing but my underwear.

Harry has seen me before, but never in flourescent lighting and never for more than a few seconds.

I stand in front of the mirror and the tears start to flow. My fingers claw at the fat on my thighs and stomach and butt. I have never wanted to hurt myself more.

"It's so fucking gross!" I cry. "I'm disgusting."

Harry looks up at me helplessly, afraid to touch me anywhere besides my hand because he knows ill physically hurt him if he does.

"You're not. Not even close. Gorgeous," Harry says. His voice is desperate, like he's begging for me to believe it.

But I simply can't.

"I just- you're wrong," I say. My shoulders are trembling with tension and I search around in my wallet for a moment, still crying.

"What are you doing?" Harry asks, his eyes wide with horror.

"Just need to punish myself," I grunt, taking out my pocket knife. I just don't care anymore- I can't take the pain, the guilt.

Harry lunges towards me, grabbing it and nearly stabbing hismelf in the process. "No, no, no. Please, no baby. It's okay."

"When is it ever gonna be okay harry?" I scream. I try to swipe the knife from him, but he folds it up and puts it away in his pocket.

"Because it is. Louis you're my reason, remember?" Harry replies, his voice quivering.

I stare at him, wondering how... how could I be his reason?

"I'm not, not like this," I reply.

Harry shakes his head, leaning forward and engulfing my flabby, naked body in his arms.

"You are Always, Lou. You inspire me every day. You are sick and you're fighting to get better. You want to look perfect, but you're already perfect to me. I don't care what you think- you look gorgeous. The sizes mean fucking nothing, Louis. It's the one wearing the clothes that I care about," Harry says as he grabs my face roughly.

"I— fuck," I stammer. I want to tell him he's lying. That he's just saying it to be nice. That he's all wrong. But I've lost my words. My tongue will no longer move, my mouth will no longer speak.

"Don't say anything. Let's just get you dressed. Then we're gonna take you home and run a nice bath. You don't deserve to feel this way. I pushed you too hard, too fast," Harry says when he notices me struggling. "You're gorgeous, Lou. No matter what anyone says - including my former self. All I've ever seen was beauty in you."

I stare at him, shaking my head, but he pulls my closer.

All I manage to let out is a small mumble. "I love you."


	30. rooftop

May 20

Harry's POV

a/n: hello! a big thank you to everyone still reading :D hope you've been enjoying the story

"Harry, where are we going?" Louis whines, tugging at the bottom of my blazer. We just got off work and since we did so well on the Adidas project, I figured I would take him out for a special date.

"Shhhh, it's a surprise love," I reply, turning to plant a kiss on his forehead. Words cannot describe how beautiful he looks right now. His hair has really started to grow out and his fringe is falling into his eyes a little. I sweep it to the side as I kiss him and brush a hand over his stubble. Louis closes his eyes and I wrap an arm around his waist.

Louis is wearing a light blue button down with black trousers, both of which we picked up yesterday, and he looks amazing in them. After our experience at the mall, he went to therapy and really worked through it to figure out what was bothering him so he could have a better experience shopping next time.

"My therapist told me that I, um, haven't accepted my body yet," Louis explained last week. "It's embarrassing. I know. But I have to kind of tell myself that I don't look bad. Not even that I look good - just that i look okay."

"Well that makes sense, baby. It's kind of like a stepping stone. To go from hating yourself, to feeling just okay about yourself, to liking yourself," I replied as I put the dishes away.

"Yeah, and once I get exercise back next week I can start toning up a bit, so that'll help a ton," Louis said. I sensed excitement in his voice, as i know how much he was dying to go back to working out. But to be honest, i wasn't sure it was the best idea. His exercise addiction had been pretty strong, and I don't want him to fall back into the cycle.

"That's good, honey. But be careful, yeah?" I said. "What kind of exercise are you gonna do?"

"I don't know yet. It's almost football season, so I'll probably join back up for summer training," he replied. "But yeah, i know i can't push myself too much. I could get obsessed again."

"Mhm," I replied. "We don't want that."

"Yeah. Hey, Harry you should join the team! We're looking for new players," he suggested with a grin.

"Very funny Lou," I said, rolling my eyes. "You know very well that there's not an athletic bone in my body."

"It would be fun though. Maybe you can be goalie," Louis suggested.

"No. If anything I would be defense," I replied. "But we shall see. Maybe I will join."

After Louis told me about his therapy session, he started practicing his body acceptance a bit. His therapist suggested looking at himself in the mirror for two minutes each day. He didn't even have to do anything - just look at himself. If he had any negative thoughts, he would force himself to ignore them. Eventually, he would work his way up to saying positive things about his body. But for now, the goal was to think literally nothing.

After a week, Louis seemed to be doing a lot better.

"Babe," he called one day from the bedroom. I was in the living room watching TV and doing a bit of cleaning before James came over.

"What is it?" I asked, following him into the bedroom.

"I feel a bit better now," he said, shyly. He stood next to the mirror, clad in his underwear and socks. "I mean, I don't love it, but i don't feel as awful as I did before... I think I can do this. Go shopping now."

"That's incredible, babe! I'm so happy for you!" I replied, throwing my arms around him.

And so we went shopping a few days later. I was so proud of Louis for overcoming his fear, but I didn't want to push him like I did last time. This time around, I let him choose everything himself, and didn't pry for him to show me when he tried on the clothes.

Even so, I could tell it was still going to be hard for him.

"I... uhh, this actually really sucks," Louis admitted as he stepped out of the dressing room with tears in his eyes. He had tried on a few shirts and a blazer without a problem, but the pants were difficult for him.

Noticing he was getting emotional, I wrapped him in a hug before he tried on anymore pants. "You're doing so well. Remember last week how upset you were? So much progress, baby."

Louis nodded, pushing loose strands out hair out of his eyes. "I know," he replied. "It's just.... ugh, Harry nothing fits me. This pair fits my legs but not my waist, and this size fits my waist but not my legs."

"Hey, Thats a completely normal problem to have, honey," I replied, taking some hangers out of his dressing room. "Let's try a different store. Some brands just don't have the right cut. Yeah?"

Louis nodded and closed the door to change. We ended up trying not one but two more stores before we found a pair of trousers that fit him. But once we found that pair, damn did they fit well.

The pants fit perfectly around Louis' hips and hugged his curves comfortably. He could move around in them well, and they weren't too tight but they also weren't too loose. And his ass looked bloody amazing.

"We're fucking getting these," I gushed as Louis stepped out of the dressing room in them.

Louis wrinkled his nose and shrugged. "Do they look weird though? My legs are so big... ugh...."

"Shhhh. Honey, trust me they look amazing," I replied, guiding him to the mirror. "Look at you! Come on, Louis. I know she told you to say you look alright, but you look fantastic here."

Biting his lip, Louis twirled around a bit in the pants. "Whatever you say, Harold. I'm not trying on more so let's get these!"

Now, Louis looks as gorgeous as ever in this pants and i can't help but give his ass a tiny squeeze as we head to the subway. I feel a bit nervous touching Louis because I'm not always sure what he's comfortable with. His confidence levels change constantly and some days, he loves being cuddled and touched, while other days he doesn't want anyone near him.

Today seems to be a good day, and I take full advantage of it. As the train carries us further downtown, I squeeze Louis' hand and cover his cheeks with soft kisses.

"Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful," I tell him.

Louis blushes. "You're too nice to me."

"Never," I giggle. The train door opens and I hop up, pulling Louis with me.

A few minutes later, we arrive at a large glass building, and enter it. We take the elevator to the tenth floor, where a rooftop restaurant awaits us.

"Harry! This is so nice," Louis gushes as we entered the space. String lights hang all around and flower shaped candles adorn the surrounding tables.

"Glad you like it," I reply as I tell the hostess the reservation name.

The woman shows us to our table, which is right at the corner of the lounge, and has a beautiful view of the city down below. The air smells of freshly baked bread and newly brewed IPAs. Louis' eyes twinkle under the moonlight and I feel my heart begin to palpitate.

The waitress stops by with a basket of bread and menus. Louis opens his and begins to cautiously inspect the options.

"I think you would like the baked chicken with potatoes. Or the salmon dinner," I suggest, trying to make it easier for him. I know how overwhelmed restaurants made him.

Louis nods. "Yeah... that sounds good. Or maybe I'll get a burger."

I blink at Louis, wondering if he's joking. A burger? Sometimes just a piece of chicken is enough of a challenge for him... But I try not to show my surprise. I'm glad he's pushing himself, and I don't want to freak him out over it.

"Awesome. I think I'll get the sea bass," I reply, biting a piece of bread. "Want some?"

Louis looks at me as if I asked him to chop off his own hand, and I sigh. "You don't have to," i say softly.

"No... it's just if I get the burger, that will have a bun, so it'll be extra bread," Louis says nervously.

I look at him, nodding understandingly. But the truth is I can't understand. I will never understand how someone so beautiful can't see it. How someone so gorgeous and fit thinks they're fat. How he can't stop counting his calories, when his weight is the last thing in the world he needs to worry about.

Deep down, I want to kick myself for what I said to him when we first met. We've talked about it dozens of times at therapy, and though I'm supposed to forgive myself and let go, I can't. Because what if I hadn't made that comment? Would Louis still be okay right now?

"Honey, you can have whatever you want. Whenever you want," I assure him. "Always."

Louis nods at me, his blue irises dancing in the candlelight. "Right, baby. I know. My mind is just a little messed up sometimes. I'm gonna get a glass of wine I think."

"That's great. I'll get one too," I chime in with a smile.

When the waitress returns, we place our orders and then return our attention to each other.

"Harry, you look so incredibly sexy right now," Louis says, licking his lips from across the table. "I feel like I don't tell you that enough. But you are so hot, love. Hottest dad i know."

"Are you calling me daddy?" I chuckle, raising an eyebrow. "Because i think you ruined that term for my son now. It'll always have a dirty connotation."

Louis laughs, his squeaky voice filling the space between us. "Sorry, Haz. My bad."

"Nah, It's okay," I say. "I prefer dad anyways. So, how are you feeling about Apple Music for the next project?"

Louis' eyes fly open and he grabs the table with both hands. "I am so bloody excited! I can't wait."

"Same, It looks really creative," I reply. But I don't even care about work right now. I just care about Louis and that chiseled jaw and those pink lips and those shimmering eyes.

"What?" louis asks, batting his eyelashes.

"Nothing, you're just so amazing," I say. I really hate being sappy, but I can't help it. Louis has the power to melt me like butter.

A few minutes later our wine arrives, and we fall deeper into our state of lovey doviness.

"Haz, you're like, my favorite person ever," Louis says, pushing away his Empty glass.

"You're mine," I reply. In the midst of my flirtiness, I hear my phone buzz and I check my message.

Oh my god.

"Holy shit - that's my lawyer. We won the retrial!" I exclaim, nearly dropping my phone.

"Oh my gosh. Congrats," Louis squeals, jumping up to hug me. He nearly falls onto me, but i catch him on my chest and he beams up at me.

"Im so happy for you," he says, kissing my mouth gently. "That's amazing."

"I know, thank you, baby. But our food is here, go sit," I tell him as the waitress arrives with our plates. "We have plenty of time to hug later."

Louis frowns but does as he's told and heads over to his seat. He stares at his burger for a few seconds, frowning, but then grabs it and starts to take a bite slowly.

"I used to love burgers," Louis admits between bites.

"And you can still enjoy them now," i reply with a smile as I cut into my seabass.

"I know, I know. Just feel a bit guilty. I know I shouldn't," Louis replies. "It's just... i finally have clothes that fit, I don't wanna get fatter."

"You're not gonna, babe. Once you reach your set weight, you'll stop gaining. You remember that, right?" I say, watching his face carefully to see if I upset him.

"I know. They think I've just about reached it. I've been consistent, I just.... it's weird. I feel weird," Louis says, crunching on a fry. "On the one hand, i really do feel better, physically and mentally. Stronger too. But the guilt eats away at me... I'm so used to being thin."

"Hey, It's okay, Love," I reply. "Takes time. You're doing so great though."

"Thanks," Louis says. "Yeah, like this wasn't even possible a month ago. Eating at a restaurant... I couldn't handle it. I'm sorry for being so difficult."

I drop my fork and stare at Louis. "Don't you ever apologize. Ever. I love you so much."

Louis nods. "Love you too. And Okay, Hazza. Stop being dramatic."

I stick my tongue out at him, giggling. "Sounds like something out of a movie, right? But I mean it!"

"It does, and ok," Louis replies. "Anyways, Thanks for taking me here. Im having a great time."

"You're welcome! I was nervous you wouldn't like it," I admit.

"Are you crazy?" Louis asks, raising an eyebrow. "Also, Im telling you right now, Harry, I'm so hot for you in that outfit.... just counting down the minutes til we get home."

I smirk at him, a sneaky grin appearing on my face. "Oh yeah have no idea. I feel the same way."

A/n: smut in the next chapter ;) ALSO - my friend and I are collabing on a new story called "Dirty Yoga" which I just posted on my profile. It's not a Larry story, so sorry to disappoint there, but if you are into drama and smut and multiple ships (Zouis, Narry, Ziam, Larry, pretty much all of them going on at once) I suggest checking it out. It's a wild ride but it just might be worth reading :D


	31. intimacy

May 20 

Louis' POV

"Haz, you're so sexy," I say as Harry and I make our way into the apartment. It had been a struggle not to make out on the subway ride home, but now we are finally back at my apartment, and neither of us can wait any longer.

"So are you. Fuck," Harry breathes, pulling me onto the couch and straddling me. I start to kiss him, passionately, allowing my tongue to explore every crevice of his mouth. My teeth nibble a bit on his bottom lip and he moans softly at the sensation.

I grab Harry's ass harshly, and then lean forward to suck on his collarbone, suctioning the skin with my lips and teeth as hard as I can. He might have to wear a scarf to work on Monday, but I don't care. I've left my mark.

"Can I?" Harry asks, pointing at my shirt as I pull away.

I blink at him, suddenly losing all the confidence I had just seconds ago.

"Oh, sorry, Lou, you can leave it on," Harry says, upon observing my face.

"No, no, I can - I want to," I say, reaching my arms up and removing my shirt. It's not the first time Harry and I have made love a few times since I've been gaining the weight back, but I usually ask him if we can do it with the lights out or if I can just leave my shirt on.

Nearly shaking, I remove my shirt. I'm now completely vulnerable in front of Harry. There's nothing to hide.

"You are so beautiful," Harry says, beaming up at me. He presses a soft kiss onto my chest, running his hands across my torso, and I sigh, wondering how this gorgeous, muscular human can think so highly of me.

"Haz, I'm sorry I'm not lean or cut - I just..." I begin, as my self doubt begins wash over me.

But Harry shakes his head. "Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful."

He starts to make a trail of kisses, beginning with my chest and heading down to my navel. As he makes his way to my happy trail, he starts to unbutton my pants and tugs them off, revealing my thighs.

I'm trying so hard to enjoy this. So hard not to let my body insecurities get in the way. Harry is telling me I'm beautiful, that he loves my body. Why can't I just believe him? Why do I still have that voice in the back of my mind nagging me about how I'm not fit enough, not good enough? Why can't I just be happy?

"Lou, are you okay?" Harry asks, stopping as he drops my pants to the floor. "You comfortable?"

I nod, though I'm not too sure myself. I am comfortable - I'm always comfortable with Harry. The problem is I'm not comfortable with myself.

"Maybe I Should just please You," I suggest, motioning for Harry to come back onto the couch next to me.

"No, baby, you always do all the work. I wanna please you," Harry whines. "If you're ready, though."

I shrug, unsure what to do, unable to find the words I need to explain to him what's going on in my head. I'm not sure I'll ever find those words, to be honest.

"Babe, you deserve to be taken care of," Harry whispers, joining me on the couch. He cups my face in his hands and stares up at me with those big green eyes. "You know that, right?"

"I.... kind of," I reply. "Logically yes...."

"But the voice is telling you don't deserve it?" Harry says, continuing the sentence for me. "Baby, i have that voice too. When you touch the scars on my arms, or my legs, it's screaming at me not to let you - to push you away. But I know you love me, I know you don't mind my imperfections. And I don't mind yours. Not that you have any - because you're perfect to me."

I smile At Harry, trying to hold back tears. What did I ever do to deserve someone so kind?

"If you don't want to continue, we don't have to. We can just cuddle," Harry says. "But if you do - I would love to continue pleasing you, baby."

"Let's continue," I say with a smile. "Haz, i love you."

"Love you too, babe," Harry says, planting a kiss on my forehead. He starts kissing my torso again, slowly making his way back down to my crotch. After pulling down my boxers, he starts to take me in his mouth and I arch my back at the sensation.

Harry is gentle at first, slowly swirling his tongue around my shaft. Then, he begins to suction me harshly, bobbing his head up and down. To my surprise, he gains more and more depth with each stroke.

"Mmm, amazing," I choke as I tug at his long chestnut locks. 

It's not long before my toes start to curl and I feel precum starting to leak out.

"Haz get off, let me fuck you," I growled, pushing him away.

"Or maybe I can top," Harry said, pulling his lips off my shaft. "Or do you not want that?"

I stare at him blankly. I want that - of course I want that. Deep down, I've been wanting Harry to top for ages. But I'm so gross. If I get on my knees, he's just gonna see how fat I am from every angle. 

"Baby, what's wrong?" Harry asks, watching as I go soft. 

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry," I say, praying to god that my face isn't turning red. "I just - I'm too gross to bottom. Or top. Or anything."

"Not true," Harry says, lying down next to me and stroking my shoulder. "Not true at all, but we can stop if you want. Or you can get your shirt. Whatever you want."

I sit there and start to think about what I want. What I - what Louis truly wants. Not what the voice in my head is telling me, not what my body dsymorphia is telling me.

And what I truly want - all fears aside - is for my boyfriend to fucking fuck me for the first time tonight. Because he's gorgeous and we love each other and I want to FEEL him - all of him. 

Taking a deep breath, I shake my head, sitting up on the couch. "No, Harry. No, I want you to top. Let's just do this, it's what I want more than anything."

Harry looks at me, surprised, cocking his head to the side like a confused poodle. "Alright then, awesome."

I get on my hands and knees and Harry moves behind me. He slowly inserts a finger, and then another. He's done this before many times - and it's always the perfect combination of pleasure and pain. He moves in deep, pressing against my prostate and I let out a low moan.

"Fuck, just get inside me," I plead, wiggling my hips. I'm not even thinking about what I look like right now -I'm not thinking about anything. Just Harry. And what he's about to do to me.

"Okay," Harry says. I feel him slowly start to enter me, and turn my neck so I can see him doing it. I can see him fucking me, thrusting his load in and out again and again.

The pleasure is indescribable. The first few strokes are obviously a bit painful, but after a minute or so I'm in pure bliss. I feel Harry getting deeper and deeper with each motion, and I can't stop moaning, shaking, digging my nails into the couch cushions. Anything to release the tension without fully surrendering.

"Haz, Ughh, you feel amazing," I groan as he hits my prostate.

"You feel amazing, baby," Harry responds breathily. He grabs one of my ass cheeks, squeezing it tightly and continues to fuck me, hard and fast. 

"Uhhh," I moan, wondering how the fuck I am going to keep this up. I have to cum, but I don't want to. I want to last for as long as I can. Forever.

"Louis, I love you so fucking much," Harry growls. 

"Love you too," I reply. Without even thinking, I buck my hips and slam against my dick with my ass. 

Harry's eyes fly open, his hands trembling as he continues. "Fucking amazing."

I do it again, and then a third time, surprised that it has such an effect on him. When I do it one final time, Harry lets out a chortled moan and pulls out, spraying semen all over my back. 

Relieved, I allow myself to cum as well, squirting into my open hand as my dick releases.

We collapse onto each other in a sweaty pile on the couch, breathing heavily. 

"Uhhh, you're an amazing top, Harold," I say, giving him a sweaty kiss. My fringe is plastered to my forehead, but I don't even care. I feel too euphoric to be worried about my looks.

"Thanks, that's sweet. Louis, you know why I came, though, right?" Harry replies, raising an eyebrow. I shrug.

"Because," he continues. "Dat ass. I just looked down at you slamming your ass against me and I lost it.... oh my god, I love your booty, babe you have no idea."

I bit my lip, wondering how to respond. In my head, the voice was screaming that he was calling me fat - that I was gross and disgusting and my butt was too big. But I looked at Harry, who was smiling wider than a child on their birthday, and I knew otherwise. I knew he was complimenting me, being sincere. And I was going to fucking accept it for once. 

"Thanks," I laugh. "My booty is popping, right?"

Harry snorts and pulls me into a hug. "Literally, you are so cute. This is what I need more of. You talking positively about yourself, yeah?"

I shrug my shoulders, nestling my face into the crook of Harry's neck. "Maybe. I was feeling particularly happy just now. You were so great."

"As were you," Harry replies. "But I love seeing a smile on your face. We may have to do this more often."

I nod, smirking. "We most definitely do. Definitely, definitely."

"Mmm, maybe can a lot more in the near future," Harry says suggestively. 

"What do you mean?" I ask, wrinkling my nose.

"Well, I know your lease on this place is up soon... and I don't know if you have another place lined up, but my place is huge. So you could stay with me if you want... like just if you want. I know James is gonna be a handful and I get full custody starting tomorrow so I totally see if you don't want to... there's also the fact that we only just met a few months ago... so maybe I shouldn't even have --"

"Yes," I interrupt, covering my hand over Harry's mouth. "Yes, that would be lovely to stay with you, Harry. Thanks so much for offering. I truly don't have anything lined up, I was actually getting a bit worried. I was thinking of sleeping on Liam's pullout couch."

"Wait -really? You want to!" Harry says excitedly, nearly jumping up at the idea. 

"I mean, yeah, just for a little. I don't want to burden you, but I love you, Haz. And James is so cute, it won't be a problem at all. I'm sure you could use an extra hand anyways," I reply. 

"Oh my god, you're amazing," Harry says, squeezing me into a bear hug. The sides of our cheeks press against each other, his soft, smooth skin colliding with mine.

"Thanks, love. Now get the fuck off of me, I need a wee!"


	32. the move

June 1

Harry's POV

"Thanks so much for helping us move Louis' stuff," I tell Liam as he grabs the opposite end of the dresser and helps me carry it up the steps.

"No problem, mate," Liam says. "Glad to help."

Once we reach the bedroom, we place the dresser on the ground crookedly. "I'll fix it later," I mutter, heading into the living room.

"Niall, how are you holding up?" I ask worriedly. Niall is sitting on the couch with James, who is fast asleep on his chest as he watches a golf game.

"Good. My guy just got a hole in one!" Niall chuckles.

I roll my eyes. "Good thing he's sleeping. Can't have him watching that kind of garbage!"

"Hey!" Niall says, laughing. "You're garbage."

Liam is already making his way back outside, so I follow after him and head to the moving van. Louis is currently trying to carry about seven boxes at once, and is on the verge of dropping one.

"Babe, are you trying to empty the whole truck in one go?" I tease, taking two of the boxes from him.

"Shut up," Louis replies, laughing as he takes off with his lightened load of boxes. "I'm Superman basically."

"I guess that makes me Lois Lane," I reply, batting my eyelashes.

Liam giggles and shakes his head at us. "You guys are so cute together!"

"Ah, thanks," I reply, grabbing another box. "How are you and Andres doing? Things going well, yeah?"

"Yeah, pretty well," Liam says as he grabs a plastic container of clothes.

"You don't look super thrilled though, Li," I reply.

"I mean, he's great. He really is. He's just too normal sometimes. He doesn't have any quirks and doesn't like being silly," Liam admits as we head back inside. "Like - I don't know, with Zayn I could just be my goofball self."

"Mmm... yeah, I can see how that could put a damper on things. But don't compare him to Z. You guys were together for a while. You and Andres are still just getting to know each other. I'm sure he'll open up to you soon. He probably has a goofy side as well," I tell him.

I'm saying it like I know what I'm talking about, but in reality I'm the last person who should be giving relationship advice. My relationship with Eliza had been nothing less than toxic, and the way Louis and I ended up together was - well - unconventional to say the least.

"I mean, I don't know Harry. I suppose you're right. I'm just not even sure if I should be in a relationship, I'm still torn up from Z," Liam says. His voice is raspier than usual and his amber eyes look dark with pain.

"Hey, Li. Listen, I know what you're going through because Eliza and I split not too long ago and that was torture. But she was toxic - awful to me. I just couldn't see it at the time. Zayn was the same way, lying, manipulating, cheating. I know you miss him, but you are so much better off without him. Trust me," I say, putting my hand on his shoulder. "And you're so strong for walking away, truly."

Liam nods, though Harry can spot wetness forming in his eyes. "Thanks, mate. That's really sweet. Thank you."

"No problem, lad," I reply, patting him on the back as he hugs me.

"It's like - I just want what you and Louis have. It seems so - I don't know so perfect," Liam says. We're on the steps now, setting down our boxes. Packing can wait. This conversation is much more important.

"It's really not, Li," I say, shaking my head. "It might look that way on the surface, but we both have a lot going on. You know that."

"I mean, yeah," Liam says with a nod. "I know you do, but you just seem to handle it so well. You always know what to say to each other to help each other through the tough times."

I feel myself starting to get emotional as I continue to shake my head. "No, Liam. You have no idea how badly I wish you were right about that, but you're not. There are some days where Louis won't even come out of his room - some days he'll throw all his food in the trash. There are days where I'll just sit in the bathroom contemplating how many cuts to make. And during those days, there's nothing anybody can say that'll make it better. There's nothing I can do to stop Louis when he's low like that - and nothing he can do to stop me when I get in my head. It's just, terrifying, Liam. Everyone at work thinks we're this power couple, but deep down I'm terrified that one day we're gonna lose each other. Not because of anyone else -but because of ourselves."

I'm trying so hard not to cry right now. I have no idea why I'm opening up like this to Liam - this is more than I've shared with anyone, even my therapist. But Louis is moving in today and it's finally hitting me how serious it's getting. How damaged we both are, and how that's not changing anytime soon. And the truth is I'm so fucking scared.

"Hey, Haz, it's okay," Liam says in a soothing tone. "It's alright. It's not a linear path, there's gonna be ups and downs. But you guys have been through so much. I'm sorry I assumed you were perfect - nobody is."

"It's okay," I say. I take a deep breath and run a hand across my face, as if that might wipe off the crimson color on my cheeks. "I just - I want him to love himself, Liam. And he won't, he just thinks he's fat and disgusting no matter what I do. And I can't watch him be like this because I know it's my fault."

"It's not your fault, Harry, you know that," Liam replies. I'm falling onto his chest now, sobbing. I can't even stop myself. "And he will. One day he will. It takes time."

"But he was fine before me, Liam. I ruined everything. That night - in my kitchen, when I told him he looked ill and offered him that granola bar. Do you remember that? Right before he punched me, I saw this look in his eyes, it wasn't fear or panic or anger or pain any of that. It was just emptiness - complete emptiness, like nothing mattered to him anymore. Like he was done... I made him feel like that... I barely go in my kitchen anymore because it's all I think about when I'm in there...."

"Harry, listen. Take deep breaths for me, it's gonna be ok. You didn't know Louis back then, but he's really changed over the past year and a half. I don't know if he ever elaborated on his mum's death, but it was really sudden. Car accident. It absolutely crushed him. They were so close. And the guy he was with just made it worse. He was always dumping him and getting back together the next day - I don't know for sure, but Niall and I think he used to hit him..."

Liam pauses to take a break. "It was, really bad. We were about to call the police or something. Thank god, he ended up moving away for a job relocation. Louis was so broken, he felt so abandoned. I let him stay with me for a few days after the breakup, but he just kept drinking until he threw up, or getting too stoned to move... I..."

I stare at him, wide-eyed, feeling my heart shatter as I imagine Louis going through all that. I always had a general idea of what he went through, but he never went into detail when I brought it up.

"It got better with time. By the time you met him, he was functioning. Still severely depressed, still overdoing it with substances, but getting by. He was never okay, Harry. It was always one thing or another, and I know you blame yourself, but I truly think he's never been better than he is now, with you."

"Oh my god, Liam," I say, wiping my eyes. "That's so much. He's been through so much. Do you really think I've helped him? Or just made it worse?"

"No, you've helped him," Liam replies. "Helped him so much, you don't even know. You've shown him what stability is in a relationship, what trust and comfort are. He's happy Harry. I haven't seen him smile like that in ages."

I nod, and can't help but grin as he tells me that. All I fucking want on the face of this planet is for Louis to be happy. I want him to keep smiling, to keep pushing. I want to be his reason.

"Listen mate, we better get in and help Louis unpack the boxes," Liam says, hopping up. "I'll take over on baby duty so Niall has to do some manual labor."

I chuckle, knowing how that certainly isn't going to go over well.

Sure enough, I hear a groan from the living room. "He was just learning how to put! Five more minutes?"

"No, get your arse up," Liam replies.

I hear an angry mumble followed by footsteps. I follow the sound into Louis' room, where I find Niall looking around and Louis strategically sorting all of his belongings.

"Hey cutie," I say, snaking my arms around Louis' waist and giving him a hug.

"Wow, I thought you were talking to me," Niall says dramatically. "Rude."

"Get in here, you golf-obsessed goon," I say, motioning Niall over for a group hug. He throws his arms around Louis and I, nearly causing all three of us to topple.

I brush against Louis' stomach and feel his muscles begin to tense. He's been so insecure about his tummy lately.

"Ok, now help me get this organized you fools!" Louis commands, breaking away from the hug.

He hands Niall and I each a box and we begin to unpack them, putting everything in an organized pile like he showed us.

Then, we go around the room - which is to be his new office - and start filling the desks with supplies and putting books on the shelves. Louis doesn't trust us with the decorating - understandably so, given that Niall's room at home has a neon green theme - so he spends most of his time mounting photo frames and placing knick knacks and vases in different locations.

Eventually, my stomach starts to growl and I look at my watch. We had been working for nearly three hours.

"Can we stop for a lunch break?" I ask.

Niall nods in agreements. "I'm bloody starving."

"You can, I wanna finish," Louis says, not looking up.

"Well, maybe just take a break. You have to eat lunch too, babe," I say. I bite my tongue, because I know that this is 100% going to cause a fight.

To my surprise, though, Louis nods and sets down what he's working on. He follows Niall and I to the kitchen and takes a seat as I begin to whip up sandwiches.

"What kind of sandwich do you guys want?" I ask them.

"Ham and cheese is good for me," Niall replies.

"Cool. Do you mind getting Liam's sandwich order?" I ask.

Niall nods and heads out of the kitchen. Finally alone, I turn to Louis. "Are you okay?"

Louis nods, but doesn't say anything. I put down the plate and look him in the eyes.

"You sure?" I ask. I take his hand in mine, swinging it to the side.

Louis turns his head to the side, his fringe falling out of place a bit. "I mean," he squeaks. "Yea— I just. Is it always gonna be like this?"

"Like what?" I ask, frowning.

"Are you always gonna monitor my meals and prepare them for me... and just ... watch me," Louis begins. He's talking so fast he's nearly hyperventilating. 

I cup his jaw in my hands, tracing smooth circles on his jawline with my thumbs. "Shh. Babe. I'm sorry to overwhelm you. No, it won't always be like this. I'm not home all the time, and of course you can have the freedom to cook and eat when you want."

Louis nods, his breathing slowing a bit. "Okay, I'm sorry to panic. I just, I try my best to follow my meal plan. I mean I have been - obviously you've seen how much weight I've gained. But I don't always follow every bit of it and I still skip meals sometimes- and I just don't want to be judged. Because I'm trying Harry, I really am..."

"I get it, it's okay, love," I say, planting a kiss on his forehead. "In fact, go ahead and make your own sandwich. I seriously don't want you to feel uncomfortable."

Louis nods and inspects the ingredients I left out, shaking his head at the ham and cheese. Instead, he turns and heads into the fridge, taking out lettuce and tomato. He grabs whole bread and puts the lettuce and tomato on top with a thin slice of ham.

I bite my tongue, knowing damn well it's not enough. But I don't say anything.

"Hey, so Liam wants ham and cheese too," Niall says, jogging back in.

"Okay!" I say. I make two more ham and cheese sandwiches and then Niall helps me grab the plates and bring them to the dining room table.

"Li, come eat. I'll put James in his crib," I say, grabbing James off his chest.

"Aww, I don't even want to let go of him," Liam says, chuckling. "I feel like I'm his dad too."

I laugh. "You all are, in a way. Thanks so much for helping out today, truly guys. Next round of pints we get is on me."

"It's not even bad. Sometimes he cries but usually he's pretty quiet. Only really cries when we turn off the golf," Niall says.

Once I lay James down, I join the guys at the table and start to eat my sandwich.

"That is such a lie. He loved watching football with me," Liam jokes.

"Mmm, you guys are funny," I reply.

I look around the table slowly. Everyone is laughing and joking except for Louis, who is picking at his sandwich.

Oh god.

"Does anyone want chips or anything or the side? Fruit maybe?" I ask, trying not to single Louis.

"Mm, yes to both!" Niall says eagerly.

I nod and hurry to the kitchen, returning with a bowl of tortilla chips and a plate of red grapes. Louis fucking loves grapes - but only the red ones, though I have no idea why.

"Sweet!" Liam says, digging into the grapes. Niall grabs the chips, slapping a big pile onto his pile.

Louis doesn't even look up though. Of course he doesn't.

"Who won the footie game?" louis asks, noticing my eyes on him.

"Manchester," Liam says.

"Wow, wasn't expecting that! Was it close?" Louis asks.

They continue to chat about the game, but I can tell Louis is just forcing himself. It's one of those days I described to Liam earlier. One of those days when no one could help him.

A little while later, we all finish and Liam and Niall fight over baby duty.

"Lads, I'll do it then if it's such a problem," I laugh.

"No!" They cry.

"Fine, Liam you can have the next half hour, golf starts up again later anyways," Niall says compromising.

I shrug and head Back to louis' office. I expect him to be in there straightening every sloppily placed item Niall had arranged, but instead he's at the desk chair, slumped over on the desk.

And he's crying.

When he sees me, he looks up at me, eyes bloodshot.

"Harry. I lied. I'm not okay."


	33. football

A/n: First off A HUGE THANK YOU to every single person who has been reading this story! 4K reads? That's the most I've ever gotten! So thank you thank you thank you. Words can't describe how much I appreciate each and everyone one of you :D 

Second off I hope you guys are enjoying the story. Parts of the story are a bit dark, but I promise I am going to try to make a happy ending :) this story really hits home and is based on some real life experiences that I've had (particularly Louis' experiences) so I am hoping I'm portraying everything appropriately. Louis is in recovery right now, but sadly, you don't get better overnight and there's a lot of ups and downs. Sort of like a roller coaster, but I am trying to get him to a stable place where he is feeling better. It's just gonna take some time. 

Third off DID ANYONE SEE THE PICS OF HARRYS BALLSACK in the grey onesie because I am just about dead

Okay. Enough stalling. Time for the story:

Louis POV

June 30

"Hey!" I say excitedly, grabbing Niall's shoulder as he enters the coffee shop.

"Hey, mate. Good to see ya," Niall replied, pulling me into a hug.

It's been ages since Niall and I hung out one on one, so it's nice to finally have this private time. I always felt a bit closer with Niall than I did with Liam, but since I've been sick, I've been pretty closed off to both of them. I'm trying to change that - slowly.

Niall and I line up and place our coffee orders at the register. He gets an iced coffee and I get an iced latee. I feel kind of bad knowing how unhealthy a latee can be - it's usually made with whole milk- so I ask for almond milk.

At this point in my recovery, I'm supposed to be flexible with foods, adventurous even. I only have to see the doctors once every three weeks now, since I'm physically stable and cleared to work out. But if I'm being honest with myself, I'm nothing less than a hot mess.

It all started when I got the go ahead two weeks ago to play sports again. I went to football practice with Niall and Liam, bright and early, excited to finally get back out there. The warmup was a mile jog, and to my absolute disgust, I could hardly finish half of it.

I just remember stopping to take a break while my teammates ran past me, effortlessly galloping to the end of the track.

 

"You are so fat and out of shape!"

"Disgusting"

"Absolutely disgraceful, you pig!"

The voice rang in my ears and I held back tears. How could I have let myself go this much?

Mortified, I ended up staying after practice long after my teammates went home. To makeup for my horrible performance, I forced myself to run as much as I could. I didn't stop until I was on my knees throwing up on the pavement. Then I got up and ran some more. 

I continued to do this practice after practice, terrified of falling behind my teammates again. I made sure to keep it a secret from Niall and Liam, though, because if they found out, I wouldn't hear the end of it. I ended up walking to my car and driving around the block after practice, pretending I was going home and then returning a little while later. 

Things have only gotten worse since then. I've been sucking at practice every day, and to punish myself, I just keep eating less. I used to be the star of the fucking team, but now I'm fat, slow and lazy. Even my kicks are not what they used to be.

Despite my internal torment, however, I always make sure to put on a happy face - especially for Harry. He's such a lovely boyfriend. He's so caring and gentle and always knows the right things to say to make me feel better. During the day I moved in at the start of the month, for example, I had a freakout over lunch. 

"Hey, baby," Harry cooed, pressing a kiss onto my forehead. "It's okay to not be okay. It's a big change and I know you're scared, but I promise it's gonna be nice living together. I'll give you as much space as you need, as much cuddling as you want. And if it really doesn't work for you, you can always stay at Liam's whenever you want. Does that sound good?"

I looked up at him, tears in my eyes and snot dripping from my nose, wondering how he's still with me after I've cried into his arms like this over a hundred times in the past few weeks. How can he love someone so broken? How can he care about someone who doesn't even care about themselves?

Harry is too good to me, and I don't have the heart to tell him I've been struggling. So when I come home to his freshly cooked dinners or wake up to his breakfast sandwiches, I don't tell him how most of it ends up in the garbage. I don't let him know how many calories I have to burn to make up for it. I don't say how badly I'm hurting inside, how even his kisses can't take the pain away.

I've been losing weight again- not much, maybe a few pounds. But that's how it started in the first place. It's a relapse. It's a fucking relapse and I know that. There's no other way to put it at this point. I am failing.

But when Niall and I sit down to talk, I push all of those bad feelings down, and I sit up straight sipping my latee like it's the most delicious drink in the world. He can't know how pathetic I am - no one can.

"So, how've you been lately? Looking great at practice," Niall says taking a sip of is coffee as he pulls up a seat across from me.

"Oh please, I suck lately at footie," I groan. "But good. Harry's been great. And James is so cute as you know."

"Yes, hes 80% is the reason I ever stop by," Niall laughs. "I love the little lad. But you don't suck, Louis. It's been a while, we're all rusty."

I nod and take a sip of my latee. Is it just me or are my shorts feeling tight? I shouldn't even be drinking this.

"True," I say. "So how's life? Outside of work I mean."

"Good!" Niall replies. "I'm kind of seeing someone.... Her name is Natalie." He blushes a bit and I beam at him.

"Yes, way to go Niall! Is she cute?" I ask.

"Very! She's a red head with big blue eyes. She's Irish too. And a great dancer. We met at the pub," Niall gushes, a smile spreading over his face.

"That's amazing! Maybe I'll meet her soon, yeah?" I ask, swirling my straw a bit in my drink.

"Yeah, I hope it works out. It's still new. Having our third date this weekend," Niall replies.

I nod, trying to think of something to say, but my mind is cloudy. It's always cloudy lately.

"Lou, I wanna say something and just don't get mad, please," Niall says, leaning in and breaking the silence.

I stare at him, confused at his hushed tone and tense shoulders. Two seconds ago he was all giddy about this girl, now he looks like he has to deliver bad news to a family in a hospital.

"I won't," I say, though I can't make any promises. I just wanna know what he has to say.

"So coach told us that he saw you staying after practice a few times," Niall begins. "I just want to make sure you're being safe. That's all. That's it, not accusing you of anything."

I stare at Niall, trying as hard as I can to mask the emotions behind my mouth.

I want to tell him - everything, all of it. All of the shit and the lies and the torture I've been putting myself through. But instead, I nod and smile.

"Yeah, I'm being safe. I only stayed after a few times and it wasn't for long," I lie through my teeth.

Niall nods, but cocks his head to the side. "Ok. But Lou, if you ever need to talk, I'm here, you know that right? I'm not gonna tell Harry."

I blink at him, staring into his blue eyes, anchoring down onto them with my own eyes like they're life preservers. Can Niall keep me afloat?

Taking a deep breath, I nod again and begin to lower my voice. "I... Niall, I do need to talk. Honestly, I'm not even gonna lie to you. I'm so tired of it. If I'm being completely honest, it was more than a few times and I stayed for hours. I've been punishing myself for not being fit enough- it's getting bad again. Ever since I couldn't finish that mile on the first day, I've lost it. I just — I can't stop. And I can't tell Harry.... I'm such a fuckup. I was better, Niall. I was finally better and then I had to blow it again..."

"Hey, It's okay," Niall says, reaching over and patting my shoulder. "You're not a fuckup. You're trying to survive. What did your therapist say?"

"I didn't tell her. She thinks I'm fine. I'm too embarrassed to even admit I'm struggling again. Because I'm fine. I am a totally healthy weight - there's no need to worry about me," I sniffle.

"Hey, Louis, it's not about weight and you know that. You can be sick at any weight," Niall replies, wrinkling his brow.

"I know but.... I just, I want this to end Niall. I've been trying to recover from months and this entire time I've been feeling nothing but shit.... shit about my body, shit about how I'm not good enough for Harry, shit about how I can't even stick with recovery for more than a few weeks.... FUCK. I'm so done with it! They tell me it's going to get better, but when? Because I don't see it getting better anytime soon."

Niall gets up and scoots into the booth next to me, wrapping a strong arm around my shoulder. "Louis, it's gonna be okay. You're a really strong lad. I have faith in you."

I push Niall's arm off of me, throwing my face into my hands and crying. "How can you Niall? I don't even have faith in myself anymore.... I should just give up. I'll never be able to beat this."

"Hey," Niall says sternly. "Don't you ever say that Louis. You can't give up. If you give up, we would all lose you. You're our best friend - and Harry loves you so much. So does your family. I can't say I've ever been through anything like this in my life, and I can't promise you it gets better, but I do know you're a fighter Louis. And that you have our support 100%. No matter what."

I turn to Niall, staring up at him. He's right. I can't give up - I can't just let this disease take over my life - or worse, take my life. I think back to just a few months ago when I was in the hospital attached to a feeding tube after just having had a seizure. I can't go back to that. 

"Niall, you're right. You're so right, but I don't know how... I can't control myself," I say. 

I can't control myself. I've never said that out loud before. But it's so true it hurts. I physically can't stop myself from hurting myself. And it's so.... scary.

"Louis, can I hold you, lad? You won't push me, yeah?" Niall asks. 

I nod, and rest my head on his shoulder, allowing him to stroke my back. 

"It's tough, Lou. I know it's tough. But listen, I've been trying to think of an idea of how to get you back on track. This is just a bump in the road is all. Football isn't a good idea for you, I think. It's gonna take a while to overcome your exercise obsession --"

"But --" I interject. Niall shakes his head and puts a finger to my lips. 

"Just hear me out. One week. Let's have you try one week without football. I know you won't like it. But Liam just got an email from our corporate office about a week long writer's retreat. It's in a cabin in the north, and we were thinking we could send you and Harry. How would that be? A nice vacation? Time to focus on writing... to be intimate with Harry. Li and I would take care of James. Does that sound fun?"

I blink at him, trying to take in what he's telling me. My mind is screaming at me not to go, to stay here and keep working out, keep training for football. The guilt is eating away at me and I start to fidget in my seat, unable to deal with it. 

But it does sound so wonderful. My writing hasn't been the best lately, and I have been craving some quality time with Harry. We were trying to plan our own vacation, but the budget has been pretty tight lately. This trip would be paid for by the company.

"Umm... okay. I'll go," I say quietly, still propped up against Niall's shoulder. 

"Yes, lad! That will be great," Niall says, pulling me into a bear hug. 

I hug him back, giggling. "Thanks, Niall. For everything."

"No problem mate," Niall replies. "Thank you, for being so honest."

I nod, uncoiling myself from the hug and standing up to throw out my empty cup. 

"And you won't tell..." I begin. 

Niall nods. "I won't tell Harry. I promise."

"Okay, Niall. Thank you so much, mate. I owe you," I reply. 

"Never!" he says cheerily. "Now let's go back to your place so I can watch some golf with James."

"Not a chance," I reply. But I race after him anyways, finally feeling a semblance of calm for the first time in weeks.


	34. car rides

*I stopped doing trigger warnings but this one in particular has self harm and homophobia just a warning in case you're sensitive to that*

July 5

Harry's POV

"Alright, LouBear, the car is loaded. Ready for Swansea?" I call into the flat. I just got done packing the car and telling Liam literally everything under the sun about James' day to day to routine. Now the only thing left to do is get Louis into the car.

Seems simple right? But it's actually oh so challenging.

"Coming," Louis mumbles, though I can tell he's purposefully taking his time. I know he's body checking again. The weather is so warm now that he can't bundle up like he used to, and he often spends nearly a half hour looking at himself in the mirror, torturing himself over every detail of his body.

It breaks my fucking heart.

"Lou, come on, you look so gorgeous today! Especially with that new hair product and those sexy shorts," I say, coming into his room.

I walk over to the mirror Louis is frowning at and use my body to cover it up, instead planting a kiss onto his head.

"Let's go baby, we have to leave," I say, stroking his cheek with the back of my hand.

"Fine," Louis replies. He kisses my mouth and then grabs his suitcase, making a dash to the front door.

"Look, Harry, why are you taking so long? I'm ready before you," he jokes, stepping out into the corridor.

"Very funny," I reply as I begin to lock up. We head downstairs together and I hop in the drivers seat of my black Volvo, Louis joining me in the passenger seat.

"It's gonna be a lot of fun. Luke Williams is one of the guest speakers!" I say excitedly. Luke is one of our favorite writers, who we often look to for inspiration when we're struggling. Apparently, he was added to the list of speakers at the last minute. No one thought they could get him to come given how famous he is, but he said yes the day before the retreat and now he's on the roster.

"That's mental," Louis says, a smile spreading across his face. "What are you gonna ask him at the Q and A?"

I shrug and focus my eyes on the road as I turn onto the highway. "Probably How he gets his characters to develop so quickly and seamlessly. You?"

Louis looks out the window, his sapphire eyes focused on the bushes that line the highway lanes.

"I think I would ask him how to get out of a rut, or how he overcomes writers block," he says quietly. "I can't seem to get past it. For the past few months, at least, my mind has been so cloudy."

I bite my lip and stare at the road. I don't have to say it - we both know why Louis' mind has been cloudy. All I wish is that one day it won't be anymore, that one day he can focus on something else other than his weight or food or exercise.

"Cloudy or not, you're still a great writer," I said with a smile. "Adidas loved that bit about 'finding your passion.'"

Louis turned to me, half smiling. His fringe was styled into a quaffed hairdo and he looked adorable as his big blue eyes blinked back at me.

"Thanks, Haz," he giggles. "It was all bullshit, though."

"So was my bit," I laughs. "I know nothing about sports. I just kept using the words 'hard work' and saying to 'train like you mean it.'"

Louis elbows me playfully in the rib and I tickle his neck, causing him to wiggle a bit in his seat.

"Love you, cutie," I say.

"Love you too, Haz," he replies.

We sit in silence for a while; I watch the road while Louis looks out the window. Sometimes Louis will hold my hand or nudge my arm. Other times, I'll pat his thigh or run my fingers through his hair.

It's moments like this when I realize how EASY things with Louis can be. Everything feels so natural with him, from working together at the office to taking care of James together to making love. There are things that are hard too, of course. Like when Louis won't eat dinner, or when he'll break down in tears over an outfit, or stop hooking up to grab at his hips with a hateful grip.

It's times like that when I wish I could take on some of that pain. That I could help him, save him somehow. Even if it meant sacrificing myself. It hurts to see him that upset, that lost. He looks at me like he's drowning in the ocean and I'm on the other side of the waves with a life preserver. I try so hard to toss it him, to swim out and reach him. But every time I do, he turns away and denies it, instead choosing to brave the waves alone, sinking down deeper each time until he's at the bottom of the ocean and oxygen is running out.

It's not him making the decisions. It's his eating disorder, and I know that. But deep down, I wish Louis would choose me. I wish he could find it in him to pick me instead of his eating disorder. I wish he could kill his demons and rise above them, swim out to me and take that life preserver so that we could both hold on together.

But it's not that simple. It takes time. And I'm guilty of doing the same thing to Lou myself sometimes - not accepting his help, pushing him away.

Just last week, for example, I got extremely upset when Eliza showed up at our flat. Clad in a little black dress and tan wedges, she asked me if she could take James to meet her mother since she was in town. She even brought her mum with her to prove she wasn't lying.

"Alright," I said in a monotone, waving a quick hello to Eliza's mum. "Just bring him back tonight."

"Thanks, Harry," Eliza replied. She took the carrier from me, smiling.

I stared at her, completely confused. It was the first time we actually had a civil interaction. The first time she didn't say something rude to me or trash me as a parent. She's been particularly hostile ever since she lost in court, so it was shocking to see her so... calm.

But just as she was about to leave, Louis walked past the front door to go to the bathroom. And of course that didn't go over well.

"Oh my god," she said, pushing the door open wider and looking inside. "Harry are you fucking kidding me. You're letting this man in your house around our child?"

I shook my head, nausea washing over my whole body. "Liza, he's my boyfriend. Just give it a rest. He's great with James...."

"He's what? You let him take care of James?" she asked, her eyes flying wide open.

Louis, now aware of Eliza's presence, walked towards her. "As a matter of fact, yes, I do take care of James. Because I live here. Harry is allowed to date other people, you know."

Fuck, I kept thinking to myself. He did not just do that...

"Oh my god," she grunted. Her mum was holding James at this point and taking him to the car, and she just stood there in my apartment, glaring at the two of us. "You fucking fags. I'll find a way to undo this. I'm not having my son turn out like you two."

"Eliza, seriously, just go," I said weakly, pointing to the door.

"Get the fuck out of here," Louis growled, walking next to me. "I feel bad for you. So ignorant and hateful. You don't know what love is. Must be jealous."

"I definitely know what love is," she laughed, waving her hand in the air. "And it's not this." She slammed the door and left, leaving Louis fuming.

With fists clenched, I turned to Louis, completely agitated. "Are you kidding me, Lou?" I choked.

"What? I was just standing up for you - and for myself," he replied. "I hate that cunt. Did you hear what she said?"

"Yeah, I heard," I said. My shoulders were shaking now, but I didn't care. "She always... always says stuff like that. You can't yell back, that never works, Louis. Just gets her more riled up. You have to ignore it and be calm... you can't just be impulsive like that!"

Louis rolled his eyes, folding his arms across his chest. "No, Harry, you can't let her walk all over you like that. You have full custody. You call the shots. If it was up to me, I would have taken James right back home."

I shook my head. "You don't get it, Louis. It was going well at first. She was finally starting to be civil, I just wanted to keep the peace...I just.... I want James to meet his nan. I want him to know both his parents, as much as I hate her. I just... honestly, Louis forget it..."

I rushed to my room, slamming the door before I started getting too emotional. I didn't want him to see me crying. I didn't want him to know that she made me cry like this - not just now, but so many times in the past. I didn't want him to know how weak I was.

Lying in my bed, I started to think about how stupid I was for believing that Eliza was going to cooperate as a coparent. How I didn't have the balls to stand up for myself - or more importantly, for Louis. To be honest, I was purposefully keeping Louis a secret from her because I knew this is how she would react. I was trying to protect us, but it didn't work.

Nothing I do ever works. Nothing.

After crying for what felt to ages, I felt too weak to even go to the bathroom. But I still wanted to punish myself. My head was throbbing, but my heart was aching even more. Knowing how shit of a father I was, how shit of a boyfriend I was. I needed something to numb my mind, even if it was just for a fleeting moment.

As I buried myself under the covers, I started to scratch at my wrists. I did it until I felt the blood leaking out, until the sheets below me started to soak red.

"Harry?!" I heard Louis banging on the door, but I didn't stop. I needed to feel this pain. I needed to hurt right now.

"Haz, seriously, open up or I'm getting the screwdriver!"

I rolled over, trying to wipe off the blood, but it was no use. A few seconds later, Louis was standing over me, pulling my wrists out from under the covers, looking at the damage I had done.

He didn't even say anything. He didn't talk about how I relapsed after two months free of self harm. He didn't say he was sorry or that he felt bad. He just said "Okay."

Just "Okay." And that's all he really needed to say. Because in that one word, he was telling me he understood what I was going through, he knew what it was like. And as he bandaged my wrists at the kitchen table a few minutes later, he stroked my back softly, nodding and humming a bit.

"Haz," he finally said after my bandages were done. "It's okay for you to hurt too."

"What?" I asked, blinking at the strange statement

"You don't have to pretend to be strong for me. I can take care of you, too," he explained, pushing his hair out of his eyes. "Whenever you need me to."

"I know," I replied, nuzzling onto his chest. "I know you can, babe. Thank you."

Now, as I grip the steering wheel and stare out at the English sky, I can only hope that this retreat is going to help us learn to get more in touch with ourselves. Because as much as I hate to admit it, Louis isn't the only one who needs help communicating and being open about what they're going through. I do too, maybe even more so.

And maybe that's okay.

a/n: literally cannot explain how excited I am to have this many people reading this. I know there are books with millions of views but for me this is so much and I'm so grateful! I was thinking of ending at chapter 30 but it looks like the story will go a bit longer. The retreat should be a good experience for them both. Should really tie things together.

Also, hands up if you fucking hate Eliza! It sickens me to think that people like her exist in the world, but they do. Hopefully, she learns to be a human sometime soon.


	35. inner strength

Louis' POV.

July 9

"Lou, it's time for the meditation class," Harry says, taking a seat next to me on the grass. He puts a hand on the small of my back and kisses my cheek softly. The tree behind me sways in the wind, messing up my hair a little and Harry smooths it back.

"Okay, okay. One more minute, Haz," I say, not looking up from my typing as he caresses me.

My fingers fly across the keyboard, and I try my best to get every last thought jotted down before I forget.

I haven't had this much fluidity in my writing in months, if not years. Never has my mind been so clear, my writing so precise, the process so effortless. Instead of spending hours staring at the page, all I have to do is start typing and my ideas begin to flow. Rather than feeling trapped and bogged down by negative thoughts like I usually do, I suddenly feel positive and reinvigorated.

Honestly, when Niall said this retreat would be good for me, I had no idea he would actually be right. I expected this trip to consist of me dragging myself through endless activities and forcing myself to smile and trying to reserve enough emotional energy to make Harry think I'm actually happy. I thought it would consist of meals that I'd have to physically shove down my throat, workshops I'd have to pretend I enjoyed and got something out of.

But it didn't turn out that way. Not at all.

Because something changed.

It all started at dinner on the first day. After arriving, Harry and I put our things in the cabin — a rustic cedarwood with six bedrooms — and then headed outside for dinner. The coordinators were only serving burgers and hot dogs, and I stared at the grill, wanting to cry, just wishing they were at least going to make grilled chicken or something semi healthy.

"Okay, after this we are going to do a night time writing exercise!" The head coordinator said.

I bit my lip, thinking of the burning feeling in the pit of my stomach. I haven't eaten anything but a salad and a protein bar during the road trip, and that was hours ago.

Harry smiled at me encouragingly as we got on line for food. He hasn't been pushing me or monitoring my food much lately, because when he does, I lash out and refuse to eat. But when he doesn't, I don't end up eating much anyways either. It's a lose-lose.

I took a breath, trying to steady my shaking hands. The voice was screaming at me to get out of there, to find any excuse to skip out on this greasy food. But the coordinator kept talking about the writing workshop and I kept thinking about how I wasn't going to be able to do it.

Fuck, I wasn't going to be able do it if I didn't eat. I was going to be shaky, exhausted, drained. Unable to focus on anything but my hunger and my fatigue and how guilty I was for feeling hungry and tired in the first place...

And as I moved up on the line, right then and there it hit me. My writer's block wasn't writer's block. I wasn't stuck or out of ideas: I just wasn't able to focus because I wasn't eating enough. My entire mind was consumed by food. Food and calories and exercise and restriction. There wasn't room for anything else, there wasn't room for my writing - or even for me.

Harry handed me a plate, and instead of rushing to the bathroom as I had originally planned, I stepped up to the grill and take both a hamburger and a hot dog.

I nearly surprised myself when I sat down at the picnic table and began to eat the meal. All of it, every last bite. I was just so tired of feeling hungry, so tired of not being able to think straight. Tired of running until I felt sick, of forcing myself to work out for hours. I was tired, and I just wanted it to stop. Just for this week.

I can't tell you what it felt like when I took that first bite of the burger - a real burger. I hadn't had a burger in months. Even when my meal planned required it, I would beg Harry to let me just have a veggie burger instead. As I brought it to my lips, I wanted to cry. Because I forgot how good food tasted. No, I forgot how good freedom tasted.

When I went to do the writing exercises with the rest of the group afterwards, I finally felt relaxed for once. My mind was at ease, and I closed my eyes, listening to the prompt about nature and letting myself take in my surroundings. Once it came time to write, I felt my hand begin to float across the page, light and free, just like my mind.

I wrote pages and pages. Even when they told us it was over, I kept on writing.

"Slow down, it's just the first night!" Harry said cheerily.

I nearly started crying, I swear. Tears formed in my eyes and my throat began to swell. "I know. I just feel... so much better. Like my old self."

I'm not sure if Harry fully understood what I was talking about, but based on the way he wrapped me in his arms and kissed me, it seemed like he did.

That meal marked the first of many complete meals that I had on the trip. The next morning, there was a breakfast buffet with eggs, bacon, French Toast and pancakes. I bloody love pancakes, but the voice was screaming that 'carbs will make you fat.' Again, I focused my mind on the writing I would have to be doing. How I needed a good breakfast and a clear mind so I could focus again.

I ended up getting three pancakes, and with Harry's encouragement, some syrup and bacon on the side. It was so delicious that I even went back and got a fourth one.

Things went on like this all week, with the exception of 'taco night,' which for whatever reason sent me into a near melt down. I think it was because they only had a very fatty looking beef and not lean chicken like I was hoping. I rushed to the bathroom in a panic, and stayed there for nearly the whole dinner until Harry came back with a turkey sandwich that he was able to find in the kitchen.

But aside from that slip up, I can honestly say that I did eat everything that was given to me. Quesadillas, Italian heroes, pizza, even cake at one point. I ate everything, and as much as I wanted and it felt amazing.

That's not to say that I didn't feel guilty. Every night before I went to bed, I got the urge to do situps until my back was too bruised to continue or to do jumping jacks until my calves gave out. But I just kept thinking about my writing - and not just my writing, but my overall wellbeing. I hadn't felt this calm in ages, and now that I was finally allowing myself to take a break from football, my body was starting to hurt a lot less. I just felt b e t t e r.

In my past attempts of recovery, I usually got to a point where I was feeling better physically, but was suffering so much mentally that I couldn't take it. Hence the multiple relapses. But now, as I type away beneath the tree and Harry rubs my back, I am starting to wonder if maybe I can really do it. That maybe I can recover for real this time.

Because I am so sick of being trapped in this toxic cycle. I'm fucking sick of it. Is being thin really even worth it, if you're not happy?

"Okay, let's go meditate, baby," I say, snapping my laptop shut. I leap up and follow him towards where the rest of the group is setting up in the North pasture.

I feel sort of bad that I haven't been able to spend much time with Harry during this retreat. Aside from the meals and bedtime, we've been loaded with activities, and even when we do have breaks for a few hours, I spend almost all of it writing. We head home tomorrow, and I don't want our time alone together to have been for nothing.

"Hey, actually," I say, jogging to match Harry's pace. "What if we ditched out? It's the last day. I kinda wanna spend a little alone time with you. Besides, we're not missing anything. The key note speaker isn't until later."

Harry shoots me a sexy smile, his dimples deepening as he gazes at me. "Sure!" he replies, squeezing my hand. "What did you have in mind?"

I shrug, and started to turn around, pulling Harry with me. "Well I saw this lake near the South pasture," I say.

It takes us a little while to find it, but after meandering through the brush, we eventually come across the lake and take a seat by the shore, dipping our toes in.

"Sorry I've been distant lately," I say to Harry, twirling one of his curls with my finger.

He bops my nose, laughing. "It's totally fine. You've been in the zone lately. It's great to see you so passionate."

A feel a wide smile start to spread across my face and try not to blush. "Yeah. I really have been. I didn't actually think this retreat would be helpful, but it is..."

"Yeah! You finally got over your writer's block. Must be the nature and the good weather," Harry says with a smile.

I look deep into his emerald eyes, nodding. But he's wrong. He's wrong and I want to say that he's wrong but I don't know if I should tell him. Because honestly, I'm not sure if I'm strong enough to keep on eating like this. And I don't want to get his hopes up, only to let him down if things fall through.

Harry doesn't even know much about what's going on. He doesn't know about the overexercising at practice. He doesn't know how fucked up things have been until this point. I have no idea how he's going to react. Maybe it's better to just keep my mouth shut.

"I.... it's not just the nature and weather," I say softly. I try my best to maintain my composure, but Harry's green eyes crinkle around the edges and I feel my emotions rising from my stomach to my mouth. I have to tell him. "I... I think we should talk. Like... a lot has been going on."

"Yeah?" Harry said, scooping me up so my head was resting on his chest. A bit of water splashes on my shorts, but I don't care. I lean up, pressing our faces together for a second before sitting upright on his lap.

"So... please, please don't get mad," I say, chewing the inside of my mouth. "But I kind of relapsed. When I started football, I was really bad and couldn't finish the mile and I got really really worked up over it. And it just triggered my exercise addiction. So I kept practicing for hours and hours, and I stopped eating as much, and I just... it's been bad."

Harry looks at me with sad eyes, but squeezes my hand, prompting me to continue.

"And so, I don't know. I have just been so exhausted lately, my mind has been so foggy. And so when I got here, I decided to just eat what I want. Just for a week, so I can have the energy to do the workshops. I realized that it wasn't even writer's block - I was just too focused on food to ever think straight. And once I started eating - not like a meal plan or anything, but what I really wanted - I just felt so much better. My mind was starting to feel free, and I feel better physically... and my writing is better.... and I just... fuck, Harry, I don't even know how to explain the feeling, but it's like. I feel like maybe I'm actually gonna be okay... maybe I can keep doing this...."

Harry pulls me into his arm, hugging me harder than he's ever hugged me before. It's not until I feel a hot wet sensation on my neck that I realize he's crying.

"I'm so happy for you, babe," Harry sniffles. "You have no idea. Truly, this is so much progress, in just a week."

"Thanks," I say, feeling a little teary eyed myself. "Like it's still hard, I still feel extreme guilt and I want to punish myself, but I'm trying so hard not to. I feel more in control than I have before."

"That's great, love," Harry coos. "That's so great. I'm so happy. Honestly, I did notice you were coming home at weird times from practice, but I didn't want to make you think I didn't trust you. I'm so sorry that happened. Next time, you can tell me... you know that, right?"

I feel my stomach start to bubble with guilt. That's how fucked up I am. So fucked up that all I do is lie to my boyfriend, to my friends, to the people who love me. I want to stop. I truly want to stop and I know that now.

"I will, Harry. I'm sorry I didn't, I've been lying to my therapist too," I choke. Now I'm the one crying.

"Okay," Harry says, patting my back. "It's okay. I've done it before too. It's alright. You can always get back on track with her."

I nod and rest my head on Harry's shoulder. "I know."

"Hey, LouBear," Harry says, putting his face next to mine. "Don't be upset. You had a bit of a lapse, but that's okay. Let's focus on the present right now. How fucking fantastic is that? Are you proud of yourself?"

I blink at Harry, unsure how to answer the question. There's never a moment when I feel entirely free of guilt. There's always something to be upset with myself for. Some mistake I've made, some diet rule I've broken. 

But even before my eating disorder, I can't remember the last time I felt proud of myself. I was never one to acknowledge my victories - I only cared about my failures. What does it even mean to be proud of yourself? What does it mean to care about yourself enough to even be proud?

"I... guess," I mutter as I cuddle more and more into Harry's shoulder.

"You, guess?" Harry chuckles. "Baby, you gotta know. Maybe you don't feel it now, but you will. When you look back on this, you're gonna remember how hard you worked. And you'll feel proud."

I nod. "That makes sense."

"I hope so," Harry says, planting a kiss on my head. "But yeah, I did notice how much better you were eating on this trip. I was so blown away and proud of you, but I didn't want to say anything in case it upset you...."

"No," I say, interrupting. "No, Harry, seriously you have to stop being afraid you're going to upset me. In fact, I want you to. I have to really face my challenges from now on."

"Okay," Harry says softly. "Alright, baby, I will."

"Thanks, Haz," I say, pushing him onto the ground. I sit on top of him, grinning. "I love you."

"Love you too, Louis," Harry says, hooking his leg around me so I fall onto his chest. I still feel self conscious about my torso, but I push the guilt back, allowing myself to enjoy this like I've been enjoying my meals.


	36. anger

July 11 

Harry's POV 

"Babe? Are you up?" I call from the kitchen. We just got back from the retreat last night, and neither of us really want to do any work today. But it's Monday, and there are things to write and emails to send. 

"Yeah, coming," Louis replies, jogging into the kitchen. 

"What do you want for breakfast?" I ask, planting a kiss on his cheek. His hair is all wet, as he just finished with his shower, and I smooth it back, gazing into his eyes. 

"Mm," Louis frowns. "Not really hungry."

My heart drops. I don't even try to hide it. I just stare at him, bewildered. Just the other day, he was eating whatever he wanted, with no limitations. Now, he didn't want breakfast. 

"But I thought... but we had that talk..." I reply, my mouth gaping open.

Louis looks at the floor. "I know. I felt so much better on the retreat, but then I got back home and I was trying on pants and I remembered how gross I was and...."

I take a seat, resting my elbows on the table and putting my head in my hands. 

"Louis," I say. I'm nearly crying. I really am, because I just don't know what to do anymore. Every time he makes progress, he just goes back down the path of self destruction. And I don't know how to help him. I wish I did, fuck it, I would take on the illness for him if I could. I would do anything if it made him feel better. 

But I can't. Instead, I'm just sitting here, about to cry. And I'm not even the one who's ill. 

I feel so fucking helpless. 

"Aww, Hazzie, don't get upset," Louis says. I feel his hands on my shoulders. They're strong, but who knows for how long. How long will it be before they're nothing but bones again, before he's nothing but bones again?

He kisses my neck, but I slump forward, folding my arms onto the table as I sink down. 

"Haz, are you okay? I'll eat breakfast, just not now. And something healthy," Louis says enthusiastically. 

I sigh and then sit up, facing Louis. There are definitely tears in my eyes, but I don't care anymore. 

"You can't keep doing this, Louis," I croak. My voice is dry and hoarse and not just because it's the morning. It's because I'm exhausted, drained. I'm so tired of not being able to help him. 

"I'm not doing anything, Harry. I'm eating, I am gonna eat so I can focus on my writing, like I told you," Louis replies, taking a seat next to me. "I just think I should eat a bit healthier so I don't get super out of shape. Plus, I have to go back to football today..."

Football. Is he fucking out of his mind? I want to take his cleats and his jerseys and throw them in a fucking fire pit and burn them. But even then, I bet you he would show up on the field and run laps until he fainted. 

"Louis," I say again. I try to find the words to express what I'm feeling, but I can't. There's nothing I can say to make this better. 

"I just... I'm not okay," I say, breaking down and crying.

"What's wrong?" Louis asks, rubbing smooth circles on my back. 

I turn to him, peering into his eyes. "I just can't do this anymore. I can't watch you destroy yourself like this..."

"I'm not --"

"Don't you tell me you're not," I say. The tears are starting to fall now. I'm crying, screaming too. How does he not understand what he's doing to himself?

"But I'm not, I eat and I'm a normal weight, remember?" Louis replies. "Why are you crying? Is it about Eliza?"

I stand up, throwing my hands in the air. "No! No, Louis. This is about you! This is fucking about you. And it's not about eating, it's not about being a certain weight. None of that matters. What matters is that you're torturing yourself. You're literally hurting yourself every single day, every single time you restrict yourself or call yourself fat or force yourself to run a million laps. I just..... I know it's not your fault Louis, I know you're sick. But it breaks my heart every single time I see you like this... I just... I don't know what to do anymore!" 

Louis stares at me, blinking. He bites lip, gripping his wrist with his opposite hand. "I... I'm sorry, Harry. I don't know what to say..."

"There's nothing to say," I reply. "There's nothing. Louis, honestly, just do whatever you want. You're going to anyways."

Louis stands up next to me, furrowing his brow. "Oh," he says, laughing. "Oh, you think I want this? Do you think I want to be like this Harry? If I could be normal, I fucking would. You tell me you know all about the demons and the voices. But do you really? You have different demons, Harry. I have to eat every single day. Every single meal. And every single time I do, that voice is screaming at me not to. Or telling me I'm fat. And it's not a fucking choice. I'm trying so god damn hard every fucking day to fight it, Harry. Every fucking day!"

I stare at him. He's right. I know he's right. I'm never going to know what it's like to be that way. He's made so much progress, he really has. Maybe I shouldn't be so hard on him. Maybe I'm being selfish. 

"I'm sorry," I start to say, but Louis shakes his head. 

"Don't be sorry, Harry. Fuck sorry. I'm so sick of people feeling sorry for me. People telling me what to do. I'm tired of it, Harry. And I'm fucking sorry if my recovery isn't moving along fast enough for you... if I keep on relapsing again and again, but I am fucking trying. I'm trying, okay? Do you think I want to cry over food? Do you think I want to have breakdowns in the fucking dressing room? It's not a fucking choice. And I'm sorry if I gave you false hope that I was doing better at the retreat, but I'm telling you right now that I don't think I can keep it up. I really don't think I can."

I nod and Louis glares at me, shaking his head again. 

"That's my goal. My goal is to be able to live like that, but it's not happening that fast. It takes time. I've learned that the fucking hard way, Harry. And I'm sure that you have too," Louis replies. "And it hurts me too, when I see you hurting yourself. It hurts me so fucking bad but I sit there and watch it. Because that's all I can do. All I can do is support. I can't save you, Harry. You have to save yourself. And so do I."

"You're right," I choke, taking a step towards him. "Everything you've said is right. I don't know what it's like, and I'm being selfish and I'm only thinking of how things affect me. And I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Louis. I know it's gonna take time. I know that. I know how hard you're working, and I know I can't save you. I just... I love you so much it hurts, babe. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," I sob, falling onto his chest. "I'm the worst boyfriend. The worst."

Louis hugs me and squeezes my shoulders gently. "You're not the worst. You said some pretty fucked up shit to me just now, but you're not the worst. You're just scared."

"No, but I was so awful to you. I didn't think of your perspective, I'm sorry," I whimper. 

"It's okay, Harry. Really," Louis replies. "It'll be okay."

But I'm not sure if it will be. I'm not sure of anything anymore.

When I'm done crying, we both stand there, looking at each other. "Maybe we... maybe we need some time apart," Louis says. "To work on ourselves. Maybe this was too soon. Maybe I'll stay with Liam for a little...."

NO. No, that's the last thing I fucking want. But I nod, even though I'm dying inside. Because I know it's what we both need. I know we're both so sick and messed up and that we need to fix ourselves and love ourselves before we love each other. 

"You're right," I say, nodding. "You're right. I, I'm sorry. It was always a bad idea."

"No," Louis says. "No, not a bad idea. It was a great idea. And I love living here. I'm so comfortable with you. But maybe we need to push ourselves a bit more, be more independent, yeah?"

"Yeah," I nod. "Yeah, you're so right."

"Okay," Louis says, smiling. "Well, I'll call Liam about it. And you know, we can take turns babysitting. I know Liam and Niall want to help out as well. So you don't have James 24/7."

"Yeah, that would be so helpful. I'll pay you guys," I say. That's so kind of him. I was fucking wondering how I was going to survive as a single dad.

"No worries, love. And I'll see you at work every day and we can still spend nights sometimes," Louis suggests. "It'll be okay."

"Yeah," I reply. "I'm sure it will be."

"Haz?" Louis says, as he gathers the materials for a sandwich from the fridge. 

"Yeah," I reply. 

"I'm proud of you," he says. "I know how hard this whole thing is, for both of us. It's like, I don't know, sometimes I wonder how you're even still with someone like me."

I shake my head fervently, sending my curls flying. "Louis, never say that. Never. I love being with you. Always. It's me that's the handful."

"Oh shut up," Louis giggles, showering my cheeks with kisses. 

"Never," I reply. 

**********

"Alright, well, I'll see you in the morning then," I say, after seeing Louis off to Liam's with some of his stuff. 

"I'll see you then," Louis replies as he hugs me in the doorway. 

"Me too!" Liam says, joining in on the group hug. 

"Okay, have fun you two," I reply as I head out. 

As I make my way down the corridor, I hope that I'm doing the right thing. That we're doing the right thing. I'm terrified that Louis is just going to relapse even worse with Liam because he's not home much and he can get away with so much more. Or that Liam might upset him or trigger him because he's not quite as sensitive as me and Niall. Or that Louis will have a horrible time but not tell me because it was his idea to move out and he's too stubborn to admit he's wrong. 

Taking a deep breath, I try to push the worries out of my mind. He'll be fine. I know he'll be fine. I know he needs this. 

We talked to the coach and we agreed that Louis should only be going to practice three times a week. So that's definitely going to help with the exercise addiction. On top of that, we have him seeing the nutritionist again, because even though he is a healthy weight, he's starting to eat less again and needs to be held accountable. 

But deep down I know that even though we're doing all those things, nothing is going to stick unless Louis actually decides for himself that he wants to recover. And I'm hoping and praying that he makes that decision soon. 

He was so hopeful at the retreat. He even told me he thought he could do this, he thought he could get better. I know there's a part of him, deep down, that wants to fight this illness. Maybe, slowly, if I give him time and space, it will start to come back out.

A/n: Thank you so much for reading :) a few more chapters. we're almost there.


	37. normal

July 25

Louis POV

A/n: hey sorry I have been MIA - I was vacationing in Canada. Lots of fun seeing Niagara Falls and Toronto But now I'm back. Canada is not so different from the US, though they do have a more European culture than us in my opinion. Anyways, Just wanna send a huge thank u to all my readers, especially those who have been there since day one. I never expected this story to get much attention but there's all of you lovely people voting and commenting and I SEE YOU GUYS. You're awesome! So thank you. Also this is just a reminder that no matter what you're going through- eating disorder, self harm, depression, literally anything- that you can make it through. As you can see in this story, recovery is not always a linear path. There's a lot of ups and downs but small changes lead to progress and we should be proud of ourselves for that.

Now let's get to the story, shall we?

***   
It's been a few weeks since I moved out of Harry's place and I can't tell if I feel better or worse. On the one hand, it's nice to have some personal space and time to myself. I love Harry and I still see him a ton, but it's also good to give ourselves room to breathe as we try to work through the shit going on in our heads.

That's not to say it's been entirely wonderful. Liam can be a bit of a worrying dad at times, and I've had to straighten things out with him more than once. He's agreed to let me cook and eat when I want, so long as I'm following my meal plan. He also lets me work out in the apartment occasionally. But one thing he wouldn't compromise on was football.

"Lou, honestly," he said, taking a seat next to me before we headed out to practice yesterday. "You Can do whatever you want. You have your own free will. But I really don't think you should continue football."

"But—" I interjected as I laced up my cleats. I just got football back in my life. There was no way I was going to quit.

"Shh, Louis just hear me out," Liam said. His amber eyes connected with mine and I could tell he wasn't joking around. "It's not good for you. It's causing you to relapse. It's messing with your mind. Trying to be a ripped footballer is what started this whole thing... it's just not healthy."

"I know," I replied, pouting my bottom lip. "But i love football. You know I love it, Liam. I'm getting better. Why take that away from me? Why punish me for getting better?"

"Because," Liam replied, taking a deep breath. "It's too triggering. You aren't ready to workout yet. You're using it as a punishment, Lou."

"I am not!" I replied, though if I was being honest with myself, he wasn't too far off the mark. I had been using football to punish myself, not just physically but mentally.

And to be truthful, I was tired. Tired of forcing myself to run lap after lap, practice kick after kick. I was working myself to the bone and my body ached every day, sometimes to the point I wasn't sure I could make it up the stairs.

When I took that break to go on the retreat, I finally started to feel better. My muscles hurt less and I wasn't so tired anymore. But when I started back up again after the trip, I went right back to square one. It was worse this time. I was sneakier, because I knew it I wasn't careful I would get caught again. So I continued forcing myself to stay after practice, but decided to go to different location so no one would find out. I also would make up fake schedules so Harry and Liam wouldn't be wondering where I was.

I was doing what I wanted to, and it was working. I should have been happy, I guess. But I was so fucking exhausted, not just from the exercise but from hiding it from everyone. Maybe Liam was right. Maybe I just had to stop, as much as it pained me.

"Louis, you are," Liam replied sternly. "We know you're abusing the sport to over exercise. So Niall and I figured we would quit this year too."

"What no!" I yelled. I stood up, nearly breaking my ankle as I stepped forward with a cleat on one foot and a sock on the other.

"Louis," Liam said, putting a hand on my shoulder. "It's fine. The whole reason we play is because we want to be on the same team and hangout. We can always sign up again next year."

"No, I mean... dont not do just because of me," I groaned. "Yeah... ill admit it. It's toxic for me and I should probably stop. But at the same time footie has always been my life... ugh."

Liam took a seat on the couch and patted the spot next to him, urging me to sit back down. We were already 15 minutes late to practice at least, but at this point, neither of us cared. It didn't matter.

"Lou, I know it's a tough decision," Liam said. "And i know you don't want us meddling in your life. But Ni and I were thinking we could try something else a little less intense, ya know? Niall does tennis sometimes, and he said we could join his gym at a discount. Would you want to do that? We could do tennis together. Harry too. Doubles or something. That could be fun, yeah?"

I nodded. Yes, It did sound fun, and yes I would want to play tennis with them. I always wanted to learn how to play tennis. And being able to play with Harry would be bloody adorable.

But even as I told Liam yes, I could tell my heart wasn't in it. I wasn't smiling, my eyes weren't shining. If anything I looked like I was about to cry.

"What's wrong, lad?" Liam asked, looking at my face.

"I just..." I began. I tried to hold back my tears, but of course I broke down. When didn't I break down these days? "I just don't get why I have to give it up.... why, i can't do anything. I can't work out, can't eat like I want to. I gained so much weight and it was so hard. And everyone said it would get easier after that but it's not. If anything it's worse, Liam. I'm worse."

"Hey," Liam replied, rubbing my back as I fell onto him. "It does get better, Lou. It just takes a long time. I'm sorry it's so frustrating. I know that telling you to be patient is probably the worst advice, but it's all I can really say."

I nodded and tucked my head onto his chest. He continued to rub my back, and it calmed me down a bit. But it didn't feel the same as when Harry did it. Nothing felt the same as when Harry did it.

"Thanks, Li," I finally said, wiping away tears as I looked up at him. "I guess we can give tennis a go. I don't know why I'm so emotional, honestly, this is so embarrassing. I try to hold it in when I hang out with you and the lads. But I guess today all my built up emotions are spilling out."

"Hey, don't worry about it. We all get emotional. I was such a mess over Zayn, remember?" Liam said with a sad smile. "We all go through it. I notice that, Lou, when you're with us, you sometimes look miserable. Like you're forcing yourself to be happy and social. You don't have to do that. We're your friends."

"I just don't want to bring you down..." I explained, looking down at the floor.

"You won't. We always wanna hear from you, the good and bad," Liam said. "Like does it help you to talk about it? Or you'd rather not?"

I shrugged. No one had ever really asked me about my eating disorder before besides Harry. Ever since I Blew up on Liam and Niall over talking about me behind my back, they avoided discussing it with me. They would do vague check-ins by asking me how I was feeling or if things have been good lately. But I'm pretty sure they just got all their information about me from Harry. Because they were too nervous to ask me themselves.

"I mean... I don't know. We never really talk about it," I admitted, inching my shoulders upwards.

"Well, we could try now. We already were kind of when we brought up footie," Liam suggested.

"Footie. Which we already missed," I groaned. I began to take off my cleats and sank into the couch.

"No big deal," Liam replied with a smile. "So what's on your mind."

"I don't know," I said, chewing on my lip. "I mean I talk about it with Niall a bit I guess. I, um, he was the one who knew I was overdoing it with football. I don't know I mean I doubt you want to know about what's going on in my head. It's all depressing. 'Nothing but problems."

"Try me. I'm the king of problems ," Liam said, cocking an eyebrow. "Right now I'm wondering if I even deserve a doctor like Andres. I feel like I'm not enough for him. He works out six days a week and owns two flats in Paris.... I feel like shit in comparison."

"Wow," I replied, widening my eyes. "Sorry you're feeling that way. You know it's not true right? You're more than good enough for him. Heart of gold, smarts, good humor, looks. You're the total package."

"Thanks," Liam laughed. "But now it's you were talking about it. I was just giving an example."

I nodded, reluctantly. "Right. Well I don't know. It's hard to explain - I guess there's just a voice in my head screaming at me not to eat and that I'm too fat. It happens when I eat and it also tells me to exercise more and more. It's pretty fucked up. But it's gotten better as I've gained- fuck I hate saying that - gained the weight. I, um, honestly am just so grossed out by my body right now, though. Like I'm fine physically now, but the mental part still sucks."

"Wow, I didn't know it was like that," Liam said. We made eye contact and I nodded, not really sure what else to say. "I mean, I had an idea of what you were going through but it makes much more sense now. So it's like a separate voice?"

I shrugged. "Kind of. It just sounds like my voice but it's just like an urge to not eat or to over exercise. I'm getting better at going against it. When it was sick I wouldn't be able to listen to anything else...."

"Right," Liam replied. "Well that's major progress. You should be proud."

"I guess," I said as I bit my lip. "But it's like - I feel so guilty because now I'm fine physically - there's no physical evidence that I'm sick. But my head is still fucked up. I'm just gross and fat - well, not fat. I know logically I'm not fat, but I feel so fat. So soft and disgusting. That's why I was trying to play football to tone up."

"Hmm, that sounds tough. But you're not disgusting," Liam said. "You look great."

I shake my head, laughing almost. "You haven't seen me shirtless. It's a bloody nightmare. I feel so bad for Harry...."

"Harry only ever talks about how hot you are," Liam said, raising an eyebrow. "I'm sure you look fine."

"Oh really?" I replied. I started to stand up and lift my shirt over my head, instantly feeling ashamed and disgusted with myself. But I wanted him to know the truth, I wanted him to see this. "So vile."

Liam stood up too. "Louis, you look good. Don't be so hard on yourself. You're in good shape."

"No abs though. No chest or arm muscle. I barely just started getting back leg muscle. And my stomach is just.... nauseating," I groaned as I put my shirt back on

Liam shook his head. "None of that is true. Sure, you're not ripped like a professional football player. But you don't have to look like that to be considered attractive. Trust me. You really do look good."

"Thanks," I replied, taking a breath. I didn't believe him whatsoever but I was tired of fighting with people who wanted to convince me I looked like a model when I knew I looked like trash.

"Doesn't sound like you believe me but okay," Liam replied. "I mean it's easier said than done, but you shouldn't be so hard on yourself. Harry really loves your body. You know that right?"

"He says he does," I grumbled.

"He does," Liam assured me. He pulled out his phone for a second, scrolling through his messages. "I shouldn't be showing you this.... but look."

He handed me the phone, which was open to his messages with Harry.

Harry: He looks so perfect now I can't even explain how good he looks  
Harry: His ass has me fucked up. So hot   
Liam: haha omg   
Harry: and his hips and his tummy... ugh just looks so good. Feels so good   
Liam: lmao thanks for letting me know. I'm guessing your sex life is prospering?   
Harry: I wish. We do it sometimes but he feels embarrassed :( try to convince him he's fit but he doesn't believe me  
Liam: Aww oh no poor lad  
Harry: I know. It just sucks  
Liam: give him time lad I'm sure he'll come around   
Harry: I know but it hurts to see him like this   
Harry: hes so beautiful but can't even see it  
Liam: I know :(

After reading, I stared back at Liam, my mouth open.

"See?" Liam said. "He loves your body."

I shook my head and put my head in my hands. "This is so fucked up," I choked. "I'm such an awful boyfriend. I'm making him hurt so bad. Why am I like this?"

"Didn't mean to upset you," Liam said, furrowing his brow. "It's not.... you're not a bad boyfriend, Lou. I feel like this whole talk just made you feel worse.... I'm really sorry. I just don't know how to help, what to say..."

"It's okay," I replied. "It did help. It's good to talk about this outside of just therapy. I just... you can't really help me. You can only really listen, Li."

"Right," Liam replied. "Well, I'm always here to listen. You know that right?"

I nodded, turning on the TV. We both needed a distraction at this point.

"Yeah," I replied. "Hey, can we order a pizza?"

Liam stared at me, probably trying to hide his surprise but epically failing.

"Yeah, sure. What kind?" he said, scrolling through numbers on his phone.

"Umm.... ham and pineapple," I said with a shrug.

I was trying my best to look nonchalant, like there wasn't a voice in my head cursing me out right now. Like I didn't feel like I was going to break down crying any second.

'Pizza are you fucking kidding me?'

'You're so fat. You had that whole cheat week on the retreat, but now it's time for salad, you fat ass.'

'That greasy cheese is gonna make you huge!'

The thoughts swirled in my head and I swallowed, thickly, trying to focus on Liam and the TV and anything but the voice in my head. I knew pizza would trigger the thoughts, especially given that I wouldn't be exercising today. But I was so fucking tired of being this way. I just wanted to be normal. For once, for fucking once I wanted to eat like a normal fucking person, to do what they did. Like eat a slice of cake at a birthday party or have a beer at the pub or snack on a chocolate bar just because.

The fucked up part is that I was doing all that stuff on the retreat. During that whole week, I finally felt normal again. I felt free. Free of my anxieties, my fear of food, my obsession with weight and exercise.

But it all came crashing down when I tried on my jeans and they felt tighter than usual. I didn't tell Harry this, but I spent almost an hour crying in the shower over it. I was finally doing it - I was finally starting to "trust my body" and "follow my hunger cues" and "respect my cravings" and do all that bullshit they've been telling me to do at the hospital. Of course it didn't work though. Of course it just made me fatter, grosser, more disgusting.

Of course I could never trust my body. Why the fuck should I? It's only ever failed me.

At the same time, I couldn't take it anymore. I couldn't take the restriction, the constant battle between my own desires and my eating disorders'. I couldn't take Harry looking at me like I just got told I had three months to live. I couldn't take Niall and Liam walking on eggshells around me like I was more fragile than a China Vase.

I was tired. I was so fucking tired of it. And as much as I wanted to leave the apartment and run to football practice and stay there for hours, I sat with Liam on the couch, watching telly and waiting for the pizza to come. Like a normal person. Because I can be normal, right?


	38. jealousy

August 1

Harry's POV

"Oh my god. I am going to bloody suck at this," I laugh as we head out onto the tennis court.

Aside from the occasional jog, I don't really work out, and I feel like an idiot in my shorts and athletic shirt.

"Same," Liam laughs as he takes a practice swing with his racket. "Niall, you have to teach us."

"Calm down mates," Niall says, jogging onto the court. "I'll show you. Someone throw the ball."

Lou heads to the net and starts to toss a ball at Niall, who hits the ball with two hands on his racket.

"That's back hand," Niall grunts. "Other side is forehand."

Louisbthrows another ball and he hits it, demonstrating. Then he jogs up to the net.

"Lou, throw it gently," Niall says. "This is volley."

"Not gonna remember that but okay," Liam chuckles.

"Whatever, you'll probably learn more by doing," Niall says, returning to the sidelines. "We only have an hour so let's go, mates. Me and Li versus Louis and Harry."

We nod and run off to our respective spots.

"Do you want the front court or back court?" Louis asks. He's wearing black adidas shorts and a red T-shirt that is absolutely gigantic on him. But he's never looked so adorable.

"Whichever," I reply, planting a kiss on his head. "I'm gonna suck so sorry in advance."

"You won't," Louis laughs. "Okay, you take front."

We assemble into our positions and then Niall starts with the serve.

Louis hits the ball back quickly, and Liam lunges for it, hitting it out of bands.

"Fuck," Liam shouts.

"Not bad though," Niall replies, patting his back. "Just get it in the lines next time."

We start again, this time with Louis serving. Niall immediately hits it back right at me, and I swing my racket, epically missing the ball. I didn't realize that Louis had run up behind me, and dove for the ball, nearly falling onto the concrete in the process.

He got it into the court and Liam hit it back, basically right in my face. Panicking, I raised my racket and smacked it back.

It landed in the corner of the court near Niall, but he just missed it.

"Nice!" Louis said, squeezing my shoulder. "1-0."

Things went on like this for a while, with Niall and Louis dominating and me and Liam trying to keep up. Liam was a decent player, he just had too much power and often hit it out of bounds. I was just generally bad - and clearly awful at serving, as I quickly learned after I managed to wedge the ball in the net on my first serve.

In the end, the score was 6-8, with Niall and Liam in the lead. There's apparently a special way to record the score for tennis, counting by fifteens instead of ones, but we were feeling too lazy, so we decided to just go point by point.

"Okay, we surrender," I say, putting my hands up.

"Hour is up anyways," Niall replies, tossing down his racket and going to pick up the balls. "Lou, you were bloody amazing!"

Louis smiles and shrugs his shoulders. "Never played before. Just treated it like footie. Go after the ball," he giggles.

"You really did go after it. You scored 5 of the 6," I laugh, looping my arm around him as he approaches the net next to me.

"Thanks babe," Louis says. He's blushing, and seems kind of shy today. Some days he's harder to read than others, and I'm having trouble figuring out what's going through his mind today.

As Niall and Liam go off to collect the balls, I turn to Louis, whispering in his ear. "How are You, cutie?"

"Good," he replies, squeezing my hand. "Better that you're here."

"Aww," I laugh. "You're having fun, yeah?"

Louis nods, his eyes lighting up beneath the afternoon sun. "I love tennis. Not as much as footie, but it's fun."

I can see the pain in his eyes as he says 'footie.' I know how much it hurts him not to be able to play this year, but after talking it over with Liam, he decided it was for the best. And I completely agree. It was just putting too much stress on him, and who knows what kinds of things he was doing that he wasn't telling us about....

"Aww, well I'm glad you like it, babe," I reply, kissing his cheek. "It'll be fun, the four us."

"Yeah, if you ever learn to play," Louis jokes.

"Rude!" I say, widening my eyes and pretending to be offended.

Louis giggles and pulls me into a hug. "Kidding. Love you."

"Love you too," I reply.

"Hey, lads, off the court!" Niall yells, from the gate. I realize now that there's another group of people waiting for the courts and start to jog away, Louis following after me.

"So how was it? You had fun?" Liam asks.

"Yeah," I reply. "I mean, I sucked and I'm all sweaty now which is gross. But it was fun-ish."

"Embrace the sweat," Niall says, laughing as he gives me a sweaty hug.

"Gross," I groan, pulling away.

"Time for a shower," Liam giggles as he holds his nose.

"Let's get outta here," Louis says with an eye roll.

We start leaving, and head to the parking lot.

"Do you guys wanna grab dinner?" Liam asks.

"Sure," Niall replies.

"I'm down," I say.

"Cool, how does Nando's sound?" Niall asks.

I start to nod, but then I look at Louis, who looks like we just asked him to eat a plastic cup.

"Or.... we could do that salad place I've been wanting to try," I chime in, making eye contact with Niall.

"Whatever you lads want," Liam says. "I'm good with anything. Lou?"

"I'm good with anything too," he replies, looking down at the lines of the parking lot.

"What do we all want then?" Niall asks.

"Either is good, I guess," I reply, watching Louis.

His hands are shoved in his pockets and he's not smiling, but not frowning.

"Let's do Nandos," he says, perking his head up.

"Sweet," Niall says. "Meet you lads there!"

We nod and hop into our respective cars. When I see Louis follow after Liam into his car, I feel my stomach sting a bit. Living apart has been tougher for me than I thought, if I'm being honest. For Louis, it's been really helpful and he's been improving a lot - or so Liam has told me. But Louis has Liam as a roommate. I'm just living alone, which makes it harder to hold myself accountable for things.

Being a single dad doesn't help either. The lads have been great about taking care of James when I need help, but I also had to hire a babysitter for times like this when we are all busy. I feel kind of guilty leaving him with a sitter because he's so young, but at the same time I do need personal time away sometimes, and this is the only way I can get it.

As I drive to Nandos, behind Niall and Liam's cars, I look at the empty passenger seat and can't help but feel lonely. Louis has only been in my car two other times: when I drove him to the hospital and when we went to the retreat. I rarely drive since we live in a city, but when I do it's always kind of depressing.

I guess it upsets me because It reminds me of when Eliza and I used to take road trips. As I cruised down the highway in my sunglasses, she would rub my thigh and kiss my neck and stroke my arm. It was times like that when I actually believed she loved me. I would stare into the horizon, comparing the blue color of the sky to the color of her eyes. I would tell her how pretty she was as I wiped her lipstick off my collarbone. And she would tell me how sexy and smart I was.

But then we would get to the hotel and she would find my pastel polo or my pink swim trunks and it would turn into a screaming match about my sexuality. Clothes flying, tears streaming, i would storm out and take a ride by myself to calm down.

I don't miss Eliza. Fuck no. But I do miss having someone in the seat next to me. In the bed next to me.....

I miss him. I miss Louis.

It's not Long before I have parked and headed inside to Nandos. Since I'm the first one there, I get a menu and take a seat at one of the tables to hold it.

"We made it!" Liam says, rushing in and sitting down across from me.

"Almost died because Liam sucks at driving and almost got into the truck lane," Louis explains, laughing.

When he sits next to Liam, the pain in my stomach intensifies, and suddenly I don't want to eat anymore.

The two have been growing closer since moving in together, and I've tried not to let it bother me. They knew each other before they knew me, and they're good friends, nothing more. But my emotions don't always follow logic, and I can't help but feel a pang of jealousy when Louis pulls Liam playfully into a headlock.

"You guys probably sped here," Niall huffs as he comes inside. "I got stuck in a shit ton of traffic."

"Sucks to suck!" I chuckle at him, but I'm not in the mood for laughing.

"Fuck off. So What are we getting?" Niall asks.

Louis looks up at him and grabs a menu. His playful, fun loving attitude is suddenly gone and replaced with palpable anxiety, with his shoulders curled up to his ears and a tense smile plastered to his face.

"Dunno," I say, browsing the menu. I usually just get chicken and crisps, so I don't really need to read anything but I try to stall for Louis' sake.

"Lou, didn't you say you wanted to get the chicken in the car?" Liam says softly.

Louis nods. "Yeah, getting the chicken. And, um, rice I guess."

"Same thing," Liam says, smiling at Louis.

"Cool, Cool," Niall replies. "Harry?"

"Chicken and crisps," I reply, still watching Louis and Liam.

"Okay, I'll put the orders in. I'm getting like a million things, so I'll pay for my own," he says.

"Right, what else is new?" Liam laughs.

"Yeah," I reply. "So, That new account is sick, right? I always wanted to do a Coke ad."

"It is," Louis replies. "But I don't wanna talk about work now, ugh."

I nod, hoping he doesn't notice how upset I am.

"Let's just talk about the waffle maker then," Liam giggles.

The two exchange a look and I just about lose it. They start discussing some sort of inside joke and I sit there, fiddling with the sugar packets on the table.

"Gonna use the loo," I mumble as I get up.

When I get back a few minutes later, the food is ready and I take my seat next to Niall, who is digging into his chicken and ribs platter.

"This is so good," Liam says, taking a bite.

I bite into a piece of chicken but I feel anything but hungry now as I watch the two of them sitting together. It seems like Liam is trying to encourage Louis to eat by exaggerating how good it is

I roll my eyes. I don't even care anymore. That doesn't work on Louis anyways. Nothing does. He just has to figure it out for himself.

"So did you here Tiffany in sales slept with Dave from finance," Niall says as he wipes sauce off his face.

"No way!" Louis says between bites.

"Yeah, and she's married!" Liam chimes in, laughing.

I pretend to follow the conversation, but I don't have the energy to keep up anymore. As the lads continue gossiping, I look down and notice that Louis has eaten three quarters of his meal, but left the rest behind.

Sighing, I toss my empty tray into the trash. This is all too much. The only thing I want to do is go home.

"Harry, are you good?" Niall asks when I get back to the table. "You've been quiet."

"Yeah, Hazzie, you okay?" Louis asks, reaching his hand out across the table.

"I'm good, just tired," I reply, taking his hand.

"Same, too much exercise," Liam says with a laugh. "Shall we go?"

"Yup!" Niall says taking his last bite.

We get up and throw out the rest of our trash before heading back to the parking lot.

When we get halfway there, we stop to say goodbye.

"See ya, lads, I'm off to a date with Natalie," Niall says with a grin. "Rom com movie."

"That'll get you laid," Liam snorts.

"Maybe it will!" Niall says with a wink as he jogs to his car.

Now, it's just me, Lou and Liam in the lot together. I feign smile and start to head to the car. "I guess I'm gonna go home too. Need to relieve the babysitter."

I start to walk away, but Louis' hand catches me. "Wait, Haz. No hug?"

"Sorry," I say, turning and hugging him.

Louis pulls back and looks at my face, wrinkling his nose as our eyes connect. "Are you okay? For real?"

"Fine," I say. "Just, um, stressed. I'm good though, honey. How are you?"

"Hanging in there," he admits. "Maybe I can come over and hang out with you and James for a bit?"

I shrug but then look at Liam, who is waiting awkwardly for us to finish our conversation. And then I remember why I'm so upset in the first place.

"No, it's okay, Lou. I'm tired, gonna lie down," I say, shaking my head.

"Haz, you're not... gonna hurt yourself are you?" louis says, eyeing my carefully. His hands are around my waist and he's looking up at me suspiciously. "Is that why you don't want me to come over?"

I shake my head and pull away from him. "No, Louis. I'm not going to do that. Is it so wrong for me to want some alone time with my son? You have plenty of alone time with Liam, it seems."

Louis wrinkles his brow and runs a hand across his stubble. "That's what this is about, you're jealous of Liam? We both have boyfriends....what are you even thinking?"

"I'm not jealous of anyone," I say, my tone raising an octave. "Just wanna go home. I'll see you at work tomorrow."

"Harry wait—" Louis says, grabbing my hand. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize, but yeah I guess we've been kind of buddy buddy as roommates. Didn't know it upset you..."

"It doesn't, it's fine," I say. "I just really have to go. I'm already late."

"Text me tonight, at least?" louis says, releasing his hold on me. I nod, and wave goodbye to Liam before storming off.

As soon as I get to my car, I start sobbing. I have no idea why I'm feeling so emotional. Louis is right- they both have boyfriends. There's nothing to worry about. Maybe it's the lack of sleep?

But I know deep down it's not true. I've been feeling an emptiness ever since Eliza left me, probably ever since my suicide attempt if I'm being honest. Now that I think of it, I've felt this way for as long as I could remember.

Except when I was with Louis. I never felt this way around Louis.

Still sobbing as I clutched the steering wheel, I began to realize how much I was relying on him. How I needed Louis in order to feel happy, in order to feel whole. How his smile had the power to make my day, and his frown had the power to crush me. When he laughed, it felt like nothing else in the world mattered. But when he cried, it felt like the world was going to end.

Now, I know That type of codependency isn't healthy to begin with. But given how sick he is, it's even worse to put so much pressure on him. Louis should be my partner, not my medicine. My love, not my drug.

When he moved out and said we should use the time to work on ourselves, he was right. I thought I was fine because I haven't been cutting lately. But it turns out my problems stem way deeper.


	39. breakdown

August 15

Louis' POV

It's been almost a month since I moved into Liam's. And almost three weeks since I quit footie.

I won't lie and say things have been great. They haven't, Not in the slightest. But they have been better. As much as I hate to admit it, stopping football has really taken the pressure off and quieted the thoughts. They're still there, don't get me wrong, but they're quieter. Because I don't have to worry about running the fastest mile or kicking the most goals or burning the most calories.

I can just relax for once, which is something I haven't allowed myself to do in a really long time.

The guilt still lingers at times, though. I would be surprised if it didn't. But playing tennis helps. Its good to know I'm not totally inactive. We go two or three times a week, and it helps me get my energy out.

Over time, Eating has gotten a lot easier too. I've been really pushing myself to go out to eat with the guys. We made it a tradition to go to Nando's every Friday after tennis.

It's nice to eat with my friends because I am usually having so much fun I forget about the guilt. I also don't feel so bad knowing they're eating the same stuff as me. Last week, I was feeling so much better I almost got dessert, but I chickened out after a few bites.

Better than nothing though, right?

The one thing that is still a bloody nightmare is my body image, and I honestly don't know if that's ever gonna get better. I know it's fucked up, but it kind of helps not being around Harry so much anymore. Because all I wanted in the world was to look good for him- like seriously good, ripped and fit. And it's pretty clear that I can't do that right now, at least not without hurting myself.

Honestly, it's easier to just be alone with my gross body, to just keep it to myself. I'm trying to work on getting my confidence up so that when I finally move back in with Haz, things won't be so much of a disaster in the bedroom. I'm sure he's tired of trying to convince me that I look good. I'm sure I've broken his heart too many times to count with my self-loathing, with my awful comments about my body.

It has to stop. I know it does, and I've been trying to fix things. I've been trying to "accept" my body, and I almost have. I've come to terms with the fact that I won't have abs again, that my thigh gap isn't coming back. I know I can't be thin right now- that it's not healthy for me. I didn't realize it before, but I realize it now: my health should be my number one priority. And not just physical, but mental too.

As much as I try to dent it, the truth is I feel like shit when I'm thin. I'm depressed, miserable, aching in pain. My hair falls out, my skin bruises easily. My joints hurt, I get heart palpitations. I don't want that again. I really don't. The voice in my head wants that - she wants it more than anything. But I don't want to get sick again, and that's what I have to keep focusing on.

Today, as I gather my phone and wallet, I try to keep these thoughts in mind to prepare myself for my date with Harry. With crazy work deadlines and busy schedules, it's been quite a while since Harry and I went on a real date night together. Sure, we will go on lunch break together at the office or I'll see him at tennis, but it's been a while since we've hung out alone. 

I want to shave a bit before I leave, but just as I'm headed to the bathroom, I hear a knock on the door. I rush over to it, ready to tackle Harry and cover his face with kisses. But to my surprise, it's Liam.

"Hey!" I say, raising an eyebrow. "What are you doing knocking?"

"Forgot My key," Liam says, heading inside. He's holding a bag of groceries and I resist the urge to sort through it and look at the calorie content of each of the foods. I can't keep doing that kind of shit... it's just bad for me...

"That's uncharacteristic of you," I say, checking my phone for a text from Harry.

"Slept over Andres' last night. Finally just getting home," Liam replies, blushing as he loads the fridge with the groceries.

"Ohh, did you get it on?" I ask. I raise an eyebrow at him and he laughs.

"Maybe. Just found out he eats ass," Liam says, his face twisting in a promiscuous smile. 

"Holy shit! Even I don't do that," I say, slapping him on the back playfully.

A little while later, I hear a knock at the door and jog over to it, adjusting my navy shorts. "I think that's Harry!"

When I open the door to Harry's smiling face, I wave goodbye to Liam and jog out.

"You look cute," Harry says, kissing my lips softly. I kiss back and wrap an arm around his waist, smiling up at him.

"Thanks!" I reply.

"Is that a new shirt? I love it," Harry says as we make our way downstairs.

"Yeah," I reply. "Liam and I went shopping the other day."

Harry nods, but I can see the pain in his face. I think back to the time we went shopping together, how I was sobbing in the dressing room. How he was trying to desperately to get me to calm down but couldn't.

Im glad that it's not like that now. I still feel like shit, but not as deeply depressed about my body image as I was before. I'm getting better. Or at least I hope I am.

"Where are we going?" I ask, swinging Harry's hand as we head down to the subway.

"Wherever you want," Harry replies. I tuck a curl behind his ear, taking in his emerald eyes and chiseled jaw.

"You're so sexy, Harry," I breathe, whispering into his ear. I kiss his neck and he closes his eyes, surrendering to the sensation.

"Lets At least do something before we go home and Fuck," Harry says back, in a hoarse voice.

"Mmm, okay," I pout, pulling away. "Have you eaten?"

Harry shakes his head and I check my phone for restaurant recommendations. Harry leans on the side of a building, pulling me onto his chest and rubbing my shoulders and I browse.

"Thai food good? There's a place two stops away," I suggest.

"Perfect," Harry replies.

One subway ride later, we arrive at the restaurant. Decorated with glass statues and a large fountain, the restaurant looks a bit fancier than I expected, but im excited to spend time with Harry nonetheless.

"Do you like Thai food?" Harry asks, taking a peak at the menu.

"Never had it," I admit. "Kinda just got panicked and picked something at random."

Harry looks up at me, half smiling. "You could have taken your time, Lou."

"I was a bit distracted by someone's beautiful face," I chuckle. "Seriously, I've missed you."

"Missed you too," Harry says, softly. "I feel bad we haven't had much time together... just been busy...."

Busy. His voice breaks off as he says it and I can't help but wonder if he's telling the truth. I've been asking him for ages if something was wrong, and he keeps denying it. But ever since he rushed out of Nando's after our first tennis practice, he's been acting distant.

"Haz," I say, leaning over the table and pushing his menu down. "Is there something you're not telling me?"

Harry shrugs and shakes his head. "No. What do you mean?"

"I mean, you've been acting distant lately. Like... are you upset about something?" I ask gently.

He stares at me, his eyelashes fluttering as he blinks. "I'm not sure...." he begins. "I, um. It's stupid."

"Nothing is stupid," I say, brushing my finger across his hand. "Why are you shutting me out? Why do I never see you lately?"

"It's just..." Harry stops to take a sip of water. "I think I need you more than you need me."

"How's that?" I ask. I sink my teeth into my lower lip and cock my head to the side.

"I just... I have always been really attached to the people I care about," he says. "I just rely on you I guess. For happiness. Like, without you home I've been really lonely and I guess I can't handle being on my own."

"Oh... well, I'm sorry you feel that way Harry," I reply. "It's not your fault, though. What did you do before me? You lived alone then."

Harry blushes, his eyes widening. "Well, it didn't go well. I lived with Eliza. Then when we broke up, I spent most of my time trying to win her back. Cried a lot..."

"Oh," I reply. Eliza. The name sends painful waves of envy shooting through my stomach. She was so bad for Harry, yet he was so obsessed with her.... and that didnt really ever end until recently.

"I didnt mean it like that," Harry says, noticing how upset I am. "You know by the end I was getting over her, and I am completely now. I just don't know how to be alone, I guess."

"Makes sense," I reply. "Yeah, i wasn't doing too well on my own either, as you already know. It's good to have someone holding me accountable, at least somewhat."

"Exactly," Harry says. "That's Exactly what I'm trying to say."

"Oh, are you like... do you mean, youre...." I start. I hope to fucking hell he's not cutting. I should have been checking up on him more...

"No," Harry says as he shakes his head. "No, Nothing major at least. Don't keep accusing me of doing that, Louis. I should be asking you what you're doing over there at Liam's." 

"What the Fuck?" I say, slamming my hand on the table. The impact is harder than I expected and I spill the water, sending most of it onto Harry's lap.

"Nice job," he says, rolling his eyes as he sops it up.

"What did you mean by that?" I ask, handing him a napkin.

"What did you mean by What you said?" Harry says, folding his arms on his chest.

"I just meant, are you being safe? That's all. There's no reason to get so hostile," I scoff.

"I was asking the same thing," Harry replies with a shrug. He makes a pouty face and rolls his eyes at me, shifting in his seat a bit.

"Harry, honestly, if you're gonna act like this we should just go home. Because you gave me a lot of attitude and I don't appreciate that," I snap. "I'm doing well at Liam's. I would tell you if I wasn't."

"Okay, okay, sorry," Harry says. "Sorry, Im just... I am being rude, and I apologize."

"Yeah, but you've been giving me an attitude a lot lately, like in the parking lot at Nando's the other week.... what's up with you?" I ask.

"Nothing," Harry says. "Just stressed with James and work and stuff. And like I said, I miss you. Like a lot."

I nod, unsure what to say to that. I guess I could offer to move back in with him. Technically, I could. But I've been making so much progress at Liam's. I feel like moving again will just throw me off and ruin my progress.

"Honey, you can literally see me whenever you want," I say, smoothing my palm over his arm. "And I can watch James if you need alone time and we can work together on the work projects. If you're struggling, don't shut me out, baby, let me in."

Harry nods, but his face begins to tense up and I can already sense that he's going to cry. I rush over to the booth next to him, and wrap my arms around him, allowing him to burrow his face on my shoulder. 

"What is it? What's wrong?" I whisper softly, as I stroke his back.

"I'm just the worst boyfriend ever," he whimpers. "You're too good for me."

"Haz, hey," I say. I cup his face in my palms and lock eyes with him. "Please don't say that, honey. You're not."

"But I am. Like here you are doing well at Liam's and I'm so selfish that I'm getting jealous of your friendship. And I wish you could just come back," he says. "Babe, I suck."

"Hey, it's okay to feel that way, Harry. It's not wrong to miss me," I reply. The waitress starts to come over, but I raise my index finger, letting her know we need a minute. 

"No, Lou. It is wrong. Because I'm treating you like shit right now," Harry cries into my shoulder. "I'm shutting you out and being passive aggressive. And I'm trying to stop but I keep making myself more upset."

I pet his hair, shaking my head. "It's okay. I can handle it. I just want to know what's going on with you. You know you can tell me."

"It's just -- I guess I feel abandoned. Like Eliza walked out on me. You walked out on me. I just drive people away because I'm overbearing and not sensitive enough, and I'm just sick of it," he moans.

His face is red and blotchy and people are starting to look over at our table now, but I don't even care. My job right now is to comfort Harry, and it doesn't matter what other people think. 

"Honey, I didn't walk out. I just needed space. You didn't drive me away. I'm still here. I still love you just the same. And you're so sensitive," I coo, petting his back. "You're the reason I'm here, honestly, Harry. Your kindness and sensitivity is what got me through."

Harry shakes his head, pulling away from me. "No. I caused this mess. You deserve better. I should just go."

"Haz, please, let me take you home at least," I say, standing up and following after him. 

"No," Harry shouts. He starts rushing out of the restaurant and I start to jog towards the exit, but I'm too slow. 

Please, please, don't let him do anything dangerous, I think to myself. Please. 

When I get outside, I look to my left and then to my right, but Harry is nowhere to be found. I hear footsteps around the corner on my left and I head towards them.

As I round the corner, I see Harry in the middle of the parking lot, on his hands and knees. Is he....? He's throwing up. 

"Harry, babe, are you okay?" I ask as I make my way towards him. 

He wipes his mouth and looks up at me with a manic stare, unanswering. 

Honestly, I'm not even sure how to react. I've never seen him like this before. He tries to get up and clean himself off, but begins to stumble back to the concrete. That's when I realize he's wheezing, gasping for air, his eyes flying open as he claws at the fabric of his collar. 

"Can you breathe? Are you okay?" I ask, putting a hand on his back. It seems like he needs an inhaler or something, but I have no idea where to get one or what to do. 

"Need meds," Harry manages to squeak between breaths. He points to his pocket and I help him take out a small plastic bag of what looks like Xanax.

"Oh, shit, is this a panic attack?" I ask, handing him a pill. 

Harry nods and takes the pill, though it doesn't seem to help much, at least not yet. I try to calm him down by rubbing his back and arms and taking deep breaths of my own for him to emulate. Eventually, his breathing slows and he sits upright, staring at me. 

"I'm so fucking embarrassed," he says, his voice hoarse from wheezing.

"Baby, you've seen me in darker moments. It's okay. Did this just start happening? Why didn't you tell me?" I ask as I kneel next to him. 

"For a few weeks now," he replies looking at the floor. "They think it's the result of the trauma from Eliza. Or something like that. I'm sorry."

"No need to be sorry. Don't ever be sorry. You know it's not your fault, Haz? You know that," I say, wrapping my arms around him. "That's what you always tell me. That it's not my fault. It's illness."

"I know but... I just want to be normal for you," Harry says. He's starting to shake now, and his eyes are full of tears. He's so close to crying, but he doesn't. He just looks at me with those big green eyes and all I can do is look back with watery eyes as well.

Without saying anything, I let him know that I feel the same way too. That I am so tired of being sick. That I want, more than anything, to be normal for Harry. Normal for the both of us. 

That I want to be okay again. 

a/n: thank you from the bottom of my heart for reading this. this story is so important to me and I hope you are all enjoying it. :D 

I also just wanted to share a quick message that I have posted on one of my other fics in the authors notes. It's something that has been bothering me this week and it's made me want to really speak up about some of my experiences. Here it goes:

So I'm not sure if anyone is a Demi Lovato fan, but you've probably heard of her hospitalization for a potential drug overdose. I honestly don't even know what to trust because the facts keep changing and the media sucks but I will say this:

Demi is one of the rare few celebrities who uses her platform to share her personal experiences about mental health. We should all be grateful for her honesty and bravery. Very few people have the courage to speak up about their mental health issues and I'm so thankful that she does. 

Honestly, I cannot even put into words how much her voice and her story have helped me through the years. This Larry story does not have a strong focus on mental health (the majority of my other stories do) but I do mention it from time to time. Like Harry in this story, I struggled with an eating disorder and exercise obsession as a young teenager.

I remember for years thinking nobody on the face of the planet was feeling the way I was feeling. I thought I was the only one going through mental health issues, and I was completely ashamed because of it. No one in my town or community spoke about mental health. Ever. It was completely unheard of and taboo. So I struggled in silence.

For years, I felt like a freak. But one day, I remember listening to Demi's music and hearing her share about her experiences with mental health issues (addiction, bulimia, self-harm and bipolar disorder). I couldn't believe that someone so famous could be so open about their struggles, and I was blown away completely.

As I listened to her music and watched her story, I finally realized that I wasn't the only one. That other people were struggling too. And it was completely okay to feel that way. And that if she had the strength to get help and fight her demons, maybe I could do it too.

When I heard the news about her hospitalization the other day, I was overcome with emotion. I couldn't stop refreshing the page to see if she was alright. And thank god she ended up being okay. I am sickened by the things I have seen on social media and the complete exploitation of the situation by senseless reporters who don't have their facts straight. At the end of the day, it doesn't matter what drug she took. It doesn't matter how it happened.

What matters is that addiction is a disease. And a having a disease is not a choice. It's not attention seeking or acting out or making bad decisions. It's a disorder of the mind and we should start treating it like that.

I will stand by Demi - and others like her - no matter the circumstances. She has always been a warrior, activist, and a hero to so many young people across the country, and that will not stop just because she is struggling again. No one is perfect, and she should not be demonized or torn down for going through something difficult.

She is in my thoughts and prayers, always. As dramatic as it might sound, she saved my life.

Love always,

Sam


	40. goodbyes

Harry's POV 

September 15

"Waaaaaaa!" 

Great, James is crying again. Beautiful.

It's three in the fucking morning, and this is the third time he has cried in the past hour. Groaning, I get up and head to his room to check on him. As I grab him from the bassinet and cradle him in my arms, I try to ignore the empty feeling gnawing away at the pit of my stomach. 

Sometimes, if I focus on James enough, I forget about how lonely I am. But now isn't one of those times. All it takes is one look at his blue eyes to send me spiraling deep into my thoughts, removing me from the tiny nursery and sending me backwards in time, to a place that wasn't so dark. 

Twenty eight days ago, I saw Louis for the last time. If I had known that's how things were going to end, I probably would have dressed nicer. I would have worn that new cologne I bought. I would have said something more meaningful. I would have told him I loved him. 

But I didn't know. I had no fucking idea. 

Louis and I had just gotten back from a date at the theatre together. We saw the play "Wicked" and had an amazing time, or at least I thought so. 

I remember holding Louis' hand at the end of the movie. He squeezed it and kissed me on the forehead. 

"This was so fun," he whispered into my ear. "Thank you for taking me, love."

We left the theatre hand in and hand and went to a diner across the street with live music. I ordered a burger and fries and he got a chicken sandwich. 

"You're so gorgeous," he told me as we dug into our meals. 

"So are you," I replied. 

During that night, there wasn't a moment that his eyes weren't lit up, that he wasn't smiling. 

It was the first time in a long time that we both just forgot about our demons and enjoyed the night, reveling in each other's presence rather than the toxic thoughts surging in our minds. 

When the band started doing pop song covers, Louis slid into the booth next to me, wrapping his arm around me. 

"I asked them to do this one," he giggled, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. "While you were in the bathroom. I know it's your favorite."

The song began to play and I kissed his neck, laughing.

"When your legs don't work like they used to before

And I can't sweep you off of your feet

Will your mouth still remember the taste of my love

Will your eyes still smile from your cheeks..."

 

"You're the best, Louis," I said, nuzzling my face into the crook of his neck. 

He didn't reply.

When we got back to my flat, I expected him to spend the night. It was already three in the morning, and Liam's place is a thirty minute ride across town. 

But when I started to change into my pajamas and lie down on my bed, Louis stood in the center of the room, looking down at his shoes. 

"What's wrong, baby?" I asked. "You don't have to get undressed in front of me if you don't want to."

Louis met my eyes for a moment, staring at me, and then shook his head abruptly. "No, um, it's not about that. We just... I think we need to talk."

"Sure," I say, sliding onto the edge of the bed and taking a seat. "What's it about."

I pat the side of the bed, but Louis doesn't join me. He just stands there, staring at his shoes again. 

"I think... I think we need to end things," he said, looking up at me. 

In that instant, my stomach hurt more than it did when Louis pummelled me to a pulp a few months ago. 

I stared at him, blinking. "Why?"

"It's just... it's too much for me right now. I need to work on myself and so do you," Louis said quietly. "I still love you so much and I had so much fun tonight. But I've just been thinking about how I can't give you all of me... and it's not fair."

"I don't care about that, though," I said, standing up. "I can't give you all of me either. We can work on it together."

"That's the thing, though, Harry. I don't think I can handle working on it together anymore," Louis said. His voice cracked, and I noticed his cheeks were beginning to flush red. Mine were too. They were probably crimson by now.

"Well, I can give you your space. You already moved out, but if you want to spend less time together...." I proposed. Desperation seeped from my voice, but I didn't care. I couldn't lose him. Not like this. 

"No, Harry. I just... I can't be in a relationship with you right now," Louis said, sternly this time. "Nothing is going to fix this. I think things have run their course. We both need to go through our own journey alone."

Alone. 

I was so fucking tired of being alone. And maybe that's why I snapped. 

"Louis, are you serious?" I nearly yelled. I was balling up my hands into fists now. As rage bubbled through my body, I wasn't sure what I wanted to do first: smash through the wall or take a stab at myself. 

"I'm sorry, Harry, I'm really, really sorry," Louis said. I could see the pain in his eyes now, I could hear it in his voice. 

If this was hurting him too, why was he doing it?

"Can you just tell me why?" I asked, nearly sobbing. 

"I already told you why. This relationship is putting too much of a strain on my mental health. And on yours too. We can't keep trying to take care of each other," he replied. 

He had slowly begun to move away from me and was next to the door now. There were only a few meters between us, but it felt like he was lightyears away. Already gone. 

"I... I'm sorry I'm so fucked up," I whimpered. I wanted to hug him. I just wanted to hug him but he was looking at me like I just murdered a fucking puppy. 

"It's not your fault. You were a great boyfriend. I wish I didn't have to do this," he said. 

"Then don't do it," I replied. Tears were streaming down my face now and I was shaking. My whole body, from my arms down to my legs. 

Normally, in times like this, Louis would wrap me in his arms and tell me it was going to be okay. Now, he was staring at me like I was some monster in a horror film. 

"I'm sorry, Harry. But I've made my decision," Louis said. "I have to go."

He turned and began to head out the door. Every fiber of my being wanted to follow after him. Wanted to fucking run after him and beg him to come back, to do anything but this. 

But I didn't chase after him. I just stood there, crumpling onto my bed and crying into my comforter until it hurt to breathe. 

And then I cut myself.

Tonight, as I hold James in my arms, I try not to think about that awful night. Of course, I can't stop the thoughts from creeping back. But I can pull James closer, stroking his back and listening to his breathing. 

It's the one thing that let's me know I'm not alone.

Since the breakup, things have been awful within my social circle. When I went into work the Monday after it happened, Louis' desk was empty. 

I'm not sure what I expected to happen after he dumped me. I didn't think we would be best friends, but I didn't think he would disappear into thin air either.

"What the fuck is this?" I asked Liam, pointing to the empty desk.

"Louis is working somewhere different now. Needed a change of pace," he said with a shrug. 

"A change of pace from me," I replied, angrily.

"Harry, it's not like that... can we talk after work? I'm so sorry what happened," Liam replied. 

We did talk after work. Not that it really helped any. 

Niall joined the conversation with us too, and if I'm being honest, all it did was make me feel awful about myself. 

"He really just wants some privacy right now," Liam explained as the three of us walked to the bench outside our office place. 

"Then why is he still living with you?" I growled. 

"Well, he's looking for places to live," Liam said calmly. "By privacy, I mean he needs some space from you."

Niall shot me a sympathetic look. "I'm so sorry it happened lad. But I think it's for the best to not work with him anymore. That'll just make it harder to move on."

"I don't want to move on!" I said, throwing my hands in the air.

"Lad, you're gonna have to," Liam replied. "Maybe not right away, but with time."

"Are you saying I can never see him again?" I asked, my eyes nearly flying out of their sockets. 

"Noooo, no. Calm down," Niall said. "Just, give it time, Harry. Please. He's hurting to."

"This is so fucked up. You get to see him and hangout with him, but I don't," I spat. "Am I not allowed to go to tennis anymore either?"

Liam and Niall exchanged worried glances. "I mean," Niall began. "We could do like, Liam and Louis play and me and you play. On separate days."

"Ugh, fuck it. I don't even want to play bloody fucking tennis," I shouted. A pedestrian glanced my way with a worried look, and I raised up my middle finger, rolling my eyes. "I only went to support Louis. But fuck it. Everyone hates me now.... when I literally did NOTHING wrong."

I got up to storm away, but Niall caught me by the shoulder. "Mate, we're not saying that you did anything wrong. You didn't. We're not taking sides on this. We want to accommodate you both. Okay, Harry?"

I shake my head. "Harry, look at me," Niall repeated in a low tone. "You're gonna get through this, lad. Okay? You're gonna stay safe, yeah?" 

"I'll stay safe," I grunted, pulling out of his grip. 

"What's that on his wrist, Ni?" Liam interjected, running up behind me. He grabbed a hold of my sleeve and began to pull it up, revealing the damage. 

Niall and Liam looked at me, their faces full of pity. I'm sick of the fucking pity. So fucking sick of it. 

"Seriously, it's none of your business," I said, yanking my sleeve down. 

"Haz, you have to talk to someone about this. Did you call your therapist?" Niall asked. 

I shook my head. "Get off my dick. I'm fine."

"Harry, you're having a breakdown in the street right now," Liam pointed out. "You're clearly not fine."

I turned to Liam, looking him directly in the eyes. "I promise I will be safe. I'll call my therapist. Just leave me the fuck alone. Because you have no idea what I'm going through right now."

"Okay," Liam said, nodding. "Okay, mate."

And with that, I walked away. 

James finally stops crying - thank god - and I put him back in his crib gently. 

I head back to my bedroom, mentally forcing myself not to make a pit stop in the bathroom, not to grab for my razors under the sink. It's been nearly a month now, but things haven't gotten easier. 

Breakups are always hard, but at least with Eliza I saw things coming. 

Louis completely blindsided me, walking away when I least expected it. And all I wanted to know was why he hadn't told me sooner. If I was such a detriment to his mental health, why didn't he speak up? If I was so bad for him, why did he call me whenever he was feeling low, why did he lean on me for support? If I was so toxic, why did he bury himself in my arms, cuddle up next to me, and ask me if things were going to be okay?

And If I was such a fucked up person, why did he tell me he loved me, over and over and over again?

I stare at the wall, trying to come up with answers, just like I have been doing every night for the past month. But even after ages of contemplation, I still have nothing. No answers, no closure. 

No peace.


	41. reasons

a/n: I'm sorry to upset so many of you in the previous chapter with the breakup. I promised you there's a reason why Louis did what he did. Here it is!

Louis' Pov

October 1st

It's October now. It's been almost two months since Harry and I broke up.

I don't even know what to say. There are no words to really describe how I feel. I guess I could say empty. Ruined, maybe. Devastated. But in the end, nothing can really do it justice. It feels like I've been broken down, pulverized to a pulp inside.

It feels like I'm dying.

The fact that I haven't seen him in two months tears me up. But what's even worse is that he doesn't even know the truth. He doesn't even know why I dumped him. He doesn't understand that I had to dump him.

He thinks that I wanted to do it, and that couldn't be further from the truth.

I didn't break up with Harry because he was putting a strain on my mental health. I broke up with him because I loved him. Because I loved him so much that I couldn't stand to see him lose everything just to be with me.

It all started the night after Harry had a panic attack outside of the Thai restaurant. I remember on the way home, I noticed a man following us down the block after we reached the subway next to Harry's flat.

When I headed back to Liam's the next morning, another similar looking man seemed to be following me again.

I didn't think anything of it at first, but when he slowed down near Liam's flat and began to take a photo, it raised my suspicions.

"Liam, some weird guy dressed in black followed me home and took a photo of the building," I said as I got inside.

"What?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

He walked over to the window, looking down, and spotted the man, who was still lingering outside.

"I think that's a private investigator, Louis," he said when he returned to the kitchen.

"Why the Fuck is a private investigator following me?" I asked, snorting.

"I don't know. The last time I even heard of a private investigator was when Harry had to go to court with Eliza," Liam said with a shrug.

Suddenly, my eyes flew open. "You don't think this has to do with Eliza, do you?" I asked.

"Oh my god. It might. You did say she was really, really mad to see you in Harry's flat, spending time with James," Liam replied. "This could be an attempt to get dirt on you."

"Well they won't find any dirt," I said with a shrug. "Unless, fuck. I did get a DUI in uni... and arrested for possession... but that was like ages ago."

"Oh god," Liam groaned. "They can use that in court."

"Shit, fuck. Well what do we do?" I asked frantically. "Should I call Harry?"

Liam shook his head. "Let's at least make sure our theory is right first. I'll get in touch with Bruce, my lawyer friend. He knows everyone in the law business. He should be able to tell me if Eliza is working with someone. It's supposed to be confidential, but all they lawyers get pretty drunk when they go golfing."

"Right," I replied, nervously. "Okay."

A few days later, Liam returned with the news. And they were not pretty.

It turns our Eliza was working with a lawyer, one of the biggest in the industry, Danny Rossman. And Danny was working with multiple private investigators who were looking for Harry's partner.

"This is so fucked," I said, nearly crying. "Is Harry gonna lose his kid because of me?"

"He could," Liam said, his face darkening. "Bruce said they're looking to slam him on this one. They're gathering everything they've got on you, and looking to prove Harry's home is unsafe."

"No, what the fuck?!" I nearly screamed. "This can't be because of me. What do I do.... ? What do I have to do? I'll call him now."

Liam's face twisted into a sad frown. "Lou... they told us what you have to do. And you're not going to like it...."

"What? Just tell me," I breathed. I was desperate for answers. I would do whatever they told me to. Whatever.

"He said to break up with Harry and lay low. At least until after the court date. It's in October. You can do that, right?" Liam responded.

"I mean... I guess. I'll just tell him that we can't be together for the next two months," I stammered. I was agreeing to it, though if I was being honest, I wasn't sure I would make it that long without Harry.

I needed him.

"Alright, well, let me get Bruce on the phone because he has some guidelines," Liam replied.

I nodded, trying to hold back my tears as he dialled the number. This really couldn't fucking be happening right now. Fucking Eliza. She had to ruin everything.

"Hi, Louis? This is Bruce Goldman," a voice said as I grabbed the phone from Liam.

"Hey," I replied meekly.

"So, let me give you the rundown. This is all off the record by the way. But my sources have told me Miss Smithfield is looking to prove that Mr. Styles is an unfit parent. PIs are all over your right now, and they have proof you spend time with Styles and the kid often. Background checks show you have some criminal history. That's not gonna hold up well in court, especially if they continue to find things."

"Right," I said shakily. "Liam told me. What do I do then?"

"Well, you have to handle this situation very carefully," Bruce replied. His voice was thick and raspy, which scared me slightly. "If the trial is planned for October, she doesn't have to inform Styles until mid September about it. You can't be with him at all until the trial is over. So you have to end it."

"Right," I replied. None of this was new information. Why was Liam even having me talk with him anyways?

"Okay. So you have to make sure he doesn't know a thing about this. You can't tell him about Eliza or the court date. He needs to be in the dark. Because he's going to have to testify and say that you're broken up. I've defended Styles before, and he's an awful liar. He looks nervous even telling the truth," Bruce said. "So you have to end it. Dump him, and don't contact him again. Disappear. Get out of his life."

I didn't answer for several seconds. "That's so fucked up," I said, finally.

"Well, yeah. But it's either that or he loses his kid," Bruce replied. "Your choice."

"I just.... how certain are you he's going to lose his kid?" I asked.

"I've seen the documents," Bruce replied. "Even with a lenient jury, she'll win full custody over this one."

"Okay," I replied weakly. "Okay, thank you."

I cried for the entire night after that. I just locked myself in the bathroom and turned on the shower and sobbed.

I loved Harry so fucking much. Harry was my everything, my best friend. My reason to smile, to challenge myself, to recover. Without him, I don't know what I would do. I would probably start starving again. Start falling deeper into my depression. Start hurting myself.

Harry walked into my life in the worst way possible. But these past six months together have brought us together in ways I could never have imagined. He's held my hand through every relapse, through every tantrum, through every anxiety ridden breakdown. And I held his during all of his worst moments too.

I couldn't end things with him. It was impossible.

"Lou, are you okay in there?" Liam asked. I had been in the bathroom for at least two hours at this point. I was just lying on the ground, sobbing. Or at least trying to. My tear ducts were nearly empty now.

"No," I whimpered. I sat up and opened the door to a frightened Liam, who wrapped me in his arms.

"I'm so fucking sorry this happened," he said as he stroked my back. 

"I can't do it," I cried. "I just can't. I love him too much."

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to," Liam said. "We'll try to think of something else."

I nodded, wanting to believe him. But I knew there was nothing else that could be done. That Harry and I were too deep into this mess. That I had to do what the lawyer told me. 

I spent the next day alone in my room, contemplating every possible way this could go. I knew Harry would be devastated no matter what. I knew what I was doing was completely wrong and twisted. I was going to hurt him so badly - and that was the worst part for me.

Because I didn't mind hurting myself. That I could live with. But I couldn't live with Harry feeling worthless because of me. I couldn't live with Harry agonizing over something I did to him.

Ultimately, however, the pain would be worth it. I would never have gone through with this if I didn't believe so. James was his world, his number one priority. I never saw Harry smile as much as he did when he was with his son. I never saw him invigorated, so happy. He would go to the store and pick out a million adorable baby outfits, or spend hours trying to choose the perfect baby food. He wasn't the best dad, but he always tried his best, and that's what made their relationship so special. 

Harry loved his son, and he did not deserve to have his child taken away because of something stupid I did as a teenager. 

So I had to do it. I had to break up with him. 

And a few days later, I did it. 

I truly meant to give him a hint beforehand. To be standoffish during our theatre date. To create distance. 

But just knowing that it was going to be our last day together ever made me want to savor it even more. So I enjoyed every moment of it, I took the time to show him how much I loved him. I held his hand, I kissed his forehead, I told him how much he meant to me.

In retrospect, that was probably the worst decision ever. Because at the end of the night, the breakup was completely unexpected. Harry had no idea what was coming, and he looked at me like a deer in headlights the minute I started ending things.

I'll probably hate myself forever for doing that. It was so fucked up. I'm so fucked up. 

As I sit here today at my new job - because yes, the lawyer told me I even had to quit my job with him too - all I can think about it is the way he looked at me that night. His face twisted into a horrifying mixture of disgust, fear and mistrust. 

Walking out of the apartment was probably the hardest thing I ever had to do. I just left him there, when he so clearly needed me. When he so clearly didn't want to me to leave. 

But he didn't follow me. He let me go - and that perhaps was what hurt me the most. Because deep down, I expected him to chase after me. As sick as that sounds. 

It's been two months now. Harry was informed of the trial two weeks ago, and the court date is set for next week. 

I'd like to say I've been hanging in there during these past two months. That I've been eating and staying healthy. But that would be bullshit. 

There's not a day that goes by that I don't miss Harry. That I don't crave this big green eyes, those luscious curls, his deep voice, his adorable laugh. I miss him so fucking much, and I can't get over the fact that he's gone.

I barely make it through the day these days, dragging myself to and from work. Some days I don't even make it to work, and I just stay in bed, sobbing into my pillow until everything goes black. I don't think I've cried this hard since my mum died. And I cried so much back then. 

That's not to say that I've been completely falling off the wagon with my recovery. I eat. I do eat, for the most part. I've lost some weight, but not enough for it to be unhealthy. Liam always makes sure I have my three meals, and I'm honestly just too tired at this point to fight him or to go through the effort of hiding things. 

So I just go through the motions, eating what I'm given, or as much of it as I can stomach. It doesn't matter to me anymore what I look like, what I weigh. Nothing matters. I just hate myself and my past and what I've done to Harry. 

And trust me, I know what I've done to Harry. I know he's been cutting, I know he's been crying. And I don't even need to ask Liam or see any proof to be sure of that. I just pray, every single day, that he's going to be okay, that he'll get better. 

That maybe, this breakup will somehow make him stronger. That maybe he'll realize he doesn't need me - he just needs himself, and James. That maybe he'll see that it's all going to be okay. 

I get to see him soon. In court, I also have to testify that we've broken up. 

And as soon as we get the results from the trial back, I'm allowed to be with him again, since Eliza isn't allowed to do a retrial on this case ever again. 

I guess I should be happy. Fuck, I should be ecstatic about it.

But I'm more terrified than anything else. Because I don't think he's going to take me back. Even after I explain to him the situation, it doesn't excuse the damage I've done to his heart. It doesn't excuse the way I treated him, the way I lied to him. Even if I was trying to protect him, it's still not okay. 

As I stare at my screen trying desperately to focus on my job, I can't help but wonder.... What if our encounter in the court room is the last one we ever have? What if he's done with me forever?


	42. court

a/n: Hey everyone! First off, I just want to thank you all so, so, so much for reading my story. I don't think I've ever written a story this long or this high difficulty level before, and I want to thank you for being patient and sticking with me. I hope you are all enjoying it.

Sadly, the story will be coming to an end soon. I have a few loose ends to tie up, so it'll probably take a couple more chapters, but the end is near. I'm so sad!

On a more positive note, I was bored the other day and I tried to make a little cartoony version of the cover of this story. It is not very good - I'm no artist - but I thought I would share it with you all.

It is not very good - I'm no artist - but I thought I would share it with you all   
Okay and so now the chapter begins:

Harry's POV

October 12

Today I have to go to court. I'm going to have to defend my rights for full custody... again. This is third time. The third fucking time, all thanks to Eliza.

If I'm being honest with myself, I'm not even mad at Eliza anymore. I don't have the energy to be mad at her anymore. I'm just tired.

I'm tired of constantly having to prove I'm a good dad. I'm tired of sobbing into my pillow every time I remember that Louis used to lie there next to me. I'm tired of having to physically restrain myself from cutting. I'm tired of not being able to see my friends most days because they're with Louis.

I'm tired of all of it, but what I'm most tired of is the pain. The pain of knowing I'll never see him again. That he never wants to be around me again.

Because when he walked away, that was it. He quit his job, detached from me, and never looked back. There was no, "goodbye." No, "maybe one day we can work things out."

There was nothing but silence. A dark, crippling silence that I still haven't been able to get out of my soul.

As I adjust my collar in the mirror, I sigh just thinking about the fact that I have to testify again. And about Louis of all fucking things.

I never thought Eliza would stoop this low. But I shouldn't underestimate her. She can always go lower.

"Harry, let's go!" Niall call from the hallway. He was coming with me, as support.

That's how weak I am now. I can't even face her alone anymore.

"Coming," I say, heading into the hallway.

We exit the apartment and I lock up, leading Niall to my car.

"It's a bit chilly," Niall says, shuddering as he climbs into the passenger seat.

"Yeah, kinda," I reply, dully. I'm not focused on the weather right now. All I'm really thinking about is how the fuck I'm going to make it to this court case without driving my car off a bridge.

"Hey, I'm so sorry this is happening," Niall says quietly.

I turn to him, making eye contact for the first time in what's felt like ages. We hardly see each other anymore outside of work. Niall texts me all the time asking to hangout, but I've stopped answering at this point. He probably just talks shit about me with Louis.

"It's fine," I huff, gripping the wheel. "You didn't have to come, you know."

"I wanted to come, though," Niall replies. "You know that I always support you, Harry. And I bloody love James."

That gets me to crack a smile. He does love James. In fact, I'm sure he misses their weekly golf marathons together.

"Thanks," I reply. "But you get why I'm mad with you. Keeping me from Louis, breaking up our friend group and all."

Niall's face falls and he nods. "I know it's wrong. I'm just... I'm trying to stay neutral. I'm trying to protect you both."

"Protect us from what?" I ask, wrinkling my nose.

Niall doesn't answer, and we drive in silence for a few minutes. I watch the cars ahead of me on the highway, and he looks out the window, studying the trees as if there are answers hidden inside their trunks.

"There's something I have to tell you," he finally says.

"What?" I ask. "Is this something about work?"

"No," Niall says. He bites his lip. "It's about Louis. He's going to be there at the trial."

I jerk forward, nearly swerving the car as I do so. "What?!"

"I'm sorry, but I didn't want you to freak out before the trial," Niall responds.

"Well now I'm fucking freaked out!" I scream. "Jesus, Niall. I feel like I'm going to be sick right now. Fuck, I need a Xanax."

"Calm down, calm down," Niall says. "I'm sorry. We're almost there. It'll be over soon."

"Why is he there?" I demand, shaking my head.

"He has to testify," Niall responds. "You both need to testify that you've broken up."

I blink at Niall, not even focusing on the road. I mean, I guess that makes sense. This whole trial is about how my living situation is "unfit" for a child. In other words, Eliza is just being a homophobic piece of shit.

I don't even live with Louis anymore, and haven't in months. According to Bruce, my lawyer, that's all I have to say. She has all this dirt on Louis. Apparently, he did some stupid shit in uni and got in trouble with the law. Now, it's a fucking felony to have him in my house or around my child.

That sure makes sense.

"Okay," I say quietly as I pull into the parking lot of the court. After I park, Niall and I get out, and I stare up at the big white building. It's one I hope to never have to enter again.

"Are you good?" Niall asks, putting a hand on my back.

I nod. "I'm as good as I will be. Thanks for telling me... you know, that he's coming. Would have been worse if I just showed up not knowing."

Niall nods, smoothing back his hair. "You're welcome. I figured. Good luck, mate. You'll do great."

"Thanks," I reply. Then, we head up the multitude of steps and into the huge building.

I already know where to go. Courtoom C. We've been there before.

I walk in and take my seat next to Bruce at the big brown desk. Eliza is already sitting at the opposite desk with her lawyer. The judge is in his chair.

"Shall we begin?" the judge asks. We all nod, and the trial begins. I've heard these statements too many times before, and I zone out, closing my eyes as the lawyers talk.

I'm trying so hard to think of something, anything, but him. But just knowing that he's in the courtroom somewhere behind me is making me so fucking nervous. Taking a deep breath, I have a sip of water and trying to relax my legs.

It feels like eternities later, but eventually it's time for the testimonies.

"I call Harry Styles to the witness stand," says Eliza's lawyer.

I walk up, calmly, keeping my head down. I don't want to see him. Not like this.

But once I get into the chair, and look towards the lawyer questioning me, I see him sitting in the front row.

I try to look away, but his blue eyes penetrate mine, and he covers his mouth, turning away instantly. I resist the urge to be sick, and return my attention to the lawyer.

"Do you swear to tell the truth and nothing but the truth?" the lawyer asks, handing me the bible.

I nod, placing my hand on it. "I swear."

He nods, and then begins the questioning. I swallow thickly, trying to ignore the aching pain in my stomach.

"Were you romantically involved with Louis Tomlinson?"

"Yes."

"For how long?"

"Six months."

"And did he live with you during those six months?"

"Only for about a month and a half."

"Did he take care of your child?"

"Yes, he helped with childcare sometimes."

"And were you aware that Mr. Tomlinson had a criminal history?"

"No."

"Are you still with him?"

"No."

"When did the relationship end?"

"Two months ago."

"Who ended it?"

"He did."

"So he no longer cares for your child or has any relation to him?"

"No."

That was it. The end. The questioning is over. I am done, finally.

Only I'm not done, not really. Even if I keep my custody- which it looks like I will - I'll always have to deal with the pain. I'll always have to face the fact that I lost the best thing that's ever happened to me.

I'm back at my seat now. Bruce is patting me on the arm, telling me i did a good job. I smile and thank him, but my eyes are on Louis, who is now heading up to the stand.

He puts his hand on the bible to and says the oath, and I take a moment to look at him, really look at him.

Of course, he's gorgeous. Even at his illest, even on his worst days, he's always been beautiful to me. But he looks he tired, worn down, wiped out. He has dark circles under his eyes, and his face is clean shaven, though I'm almost certain he only shaved for the court case. He hates the way his face looks beardless.

"So, Mr. Tomlinson. Is it true that you and Mr. Styles dated for six months?"

"Yes," he replies.

His voice. His fucking voice. I miss it more than I realized.

"And you lived with him for a month and a half and took care of his son?"

"Yes."

"What did those responsibilities entail?"

Louis blinks. "Well, I would feed him, help put him to sleep, watch him sometimes."

"Did Mr. Styles tell you to do it?"

"No, I did it on my own."

"So he didn't tell you to, but you did anyways?"

"Right, I did it to help out."

"Was there ever a time you put the child in danger?"

"No, never."

"And you ended the relationship with Mr. Styles?"

"Yes."

"When?"

"Two months ago."

"And you haven't been in contact with him or his son since?"

"No, I haven't."

"Why did you separate?"

Louis stares at the lawyer, his blue eyes smoldering. My heart breaks just thinking about what he's going to say. I close my eyes, as if doing so would spare me from hearing what he was about to say.

"Because I was going through mental health issues and couldn't be in a relationship."

It's not as bad as I thought. But there's more questions, of course there's more questions.

"What kind of mental health issues?"

"I don't have to share that with you."

"Alright. Did Mr. Styles agree it was a good idea to separate?"

"No."

"So you left him?"

"Yes."

"It says here that you work with him. Do you work with him anymore?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I changed jobs after the breakup."

"Was there a reason for this?"

"Wanted to have a fresh start."

"And you haven't seen Mr. Styles since?"

"No."

"That'll be all, Mr. Tomlinson. Thank you."

Louis heads back to his seat, and I get a glimpse of his suit. I've never seen him a suit before. He looks so fucking good. So fucking perfect.

The rest of the trial seems to fly by from that point forward. Since I've done my part, I have nothing more to worry about. I sit and daydream for the next half hour until the judge makes his decision.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he begins. "I am not going to take this case any further. It seems to me that the child is not and was never in any sort of danger. Mr. Styles maintains full custody. Court dismissed." 

"Yes!" Bruce shouts, slapping my back. I'm pretty sure that's unprofessional behavior, but I slap him back, sporting a big smile.

I feel anything but happy, though. Instead, I feel like I might be violently ill.

The nausea starts to take over, and that's when I realize the sick feeling in my stomach isn't just in my head. Waving Bruce goodbye, I rush out of the court room and into the hallway, making a beeline for the exit.

It's not long before I'm outside on the concrete, leaning over the railing and vomiting onto the steps below me.

Fuck.

"Hey, mate," Niall says, bursting the door open behind me. "Oh, god. Are you okay?"

I nod and start to stand up, wiping my mouth with the back of my sleeve. "Never been better," I reply with an eye roll.

"Okay, well, there's kind of.... someone," Niall begins.

But it's too late, I can already see Louis peaking out the door behind him.

We lock eyes, and I freeze in place, completely paralyzed by my emotions. I want to say something, but my mouth feels numb and my knees are starting to shake.

He looks at me, cocking his head to the side, half-smiling.

"Hey," he says.

"Hey."

 

a/n: full disclaimer, I do not know how court cases go in real life, so if you actually do know and there's something I wrote that's wrong, let me know! Just basing this off TV shows.


	43. pain

a/n: Hello, hello! I have been reading all of your lovely comments and can't thank you all enough for checking this story out! When I started this project a few months ago, I didn't expect anyone to read this. You guys are incredible and I hope you are enjoying everything! 

Also - not sure if you guys know this, but I literally upload as I write the chapters. Most authors on here write the entire story before uploading, but that's not really my style. So believe me when I say I am literally hurrying to get you the story as fast as I can. Hence the typos.... (sorry!) 

Once I finish with this story, I will probably do some editing with a grammar checker to clean it all up. Hopefully the mistakes are not too bad! 

October 12

Louis' POV

"Um, time to go Louis!" Niall says, pushing me in the opposite direction of Harry.

Harry and I have exchanged all but two words so far, and now Niall is trying to break this up? Is he fucking kidding me?

As I turn to face him, however, I realize why he's doing what he's doing. Because behind me, Eliza is making her way out the door, her face red and her eyebrows furrowed like a cartoon character's as she storms outside. 

"Bye, Niall!" I shout, running down the steps. 

"Were you just talking to him?" Eliza fumes to Harry.

"He was talking to me," Niall interjects. "And we have to leave now. Harry and I have a tennis lesson to get to." 

I'm nearly at the bottom of the staircase by now, but I can still hear Eliza's screechy voice making some sort of sarcastic response. 

Sighing, I head to my car and wait, balling up my fists as I listen to the radio. If it was up to me, I would scream at Eliza until her ears dripped blood. But I can't have anything to do with her right now - or Harry even. 

At least not until after we get out of this god forsaken place. 

Craning my neck, I look around the parking lot and spot Louis and Harry heading to Harry's car. At that same moment, my phone buzzes and I receive a text from Niall. 

"Meet us at the coffee shop on Court Street in fifteen."

I respond with a quick okay and start to drive in that direction, my heart thumping all the while. I try my best not to think about what might happen and instead focus on the music playing from the speakers. 

But of course that's impossible. Inside my mind, there's about a million and one ideas dancing around, all showcasing how horribly this could go. How awful an idea this probably even is in the first place. 

Harry hates me. He fucking hates me and I know that for a fact. I know it because of the way he looked at me when he was on the witness stand, and then again on the court steps outside. His face was twisted into a horrified frown, his entire expression radiating a mixture of fear and pain and disgust. 

Based on that look, I know he hates me. I know because it's the same look I used to give him when we first met. That look where I would stare deep into his eyes, scowling and hoping that my hateful gaze was harsh enough to hurt him the way he hurt me. 

I guess it worked in the end. Because I did hurt him more than he ever hurt me. Harry stabbed me back then with his words about my weight, but when I dumped him two months ago, I took the knife and twisted it. 

And then I pulled it out and stabbed him again. 

There's no going back now after what I've done to him. I'm almost certain of it. 

But at the same time, I'll be fucking damned if I don't at least try. 

Harry's POV 

"Haz, it's gonna be okay, shh," Niall says, stroking my back. "Hand me the keys, mate."

Without thinking, I toss him the keys. But then, as he gets into the passenger seat, I realize that he's going to drive me back, and I'm not sure if I want that. It's my car.

"Ni, I can drive," I say, standing next to the driver's door. 

"Nah, Haz, it's better if I drive. I'll be careful I promise. You really don't look good," Niall says. 

He's probably having a flashback of what happened on the way here, when I nearly crashed the car at the mention of Louis. Now that I've seen him up close and personal, he probably assumes I'm going to drive the damn thing off a cliff.

"I'm fine now, I'm just glad it's over," I say, grumbling as I make my way to the passenger seat. "But if you insist."

"Great," Niall replies. He takes the wheel and starts to drive away, and I slump in the chair trying to soothe my stomach. Honestly, it hasn't even felt remotely normal since I found out about the court case. But maybe it'll feel better now that it's over. 

Over. Fucking finally. 

I guess I should be feeling good about that. About the fact that Eliza can never meddle in my life again, that she's under close supervision by the court now because of her unreasonable retrial.

I should be happy now. I should. 

But I'm not. 

Because of him. 

The most fucked up part is I didn't even get to talk to him. I was just about to - I wanted to so badly. But of course, she had to go and ruin it, like she ruins everything. 

"Hey, Haz," Niall says, catching my attention. 

I've been staring somewhere, not even out the window, just down at my lap. With my pale skin and the purple circles lining my eyes, I probably look like a fucking zombie right now. 

Great. 

Suddenly, Niall's words interrupt my thoughts, nearly sending me jumping in my seat.

"Okay, so I texted Lou. He said he wanted to continue the conversation." He says it slowly, pronouncing each syllable carefully as if I won't be able to understand him if he doesn't. 

"I said you could meet him at the coffee shop," he continues. "If you want to. If you don't, then just say the word and I'll tell him now."

"I want to," I say quietly. My voice cracks, and suddenly my shoulders are tense and my hands are shaking a bit.

"You don't have to, though," Niall replies. "I really just want what's best for you."

"No, I do want to. I do want to talk to him, even if it is just to tell him how much he fucked me up," I say. "It'll be closure."

"Okay," Niall says. He grips the wheel and ride in silence until we reach the coffee shop. 

Louis' POV 

"Hey."

I turn around, with two lattes in my hand, to face Harry, who's standing awkwardly at the entrance. 

He looks so gorgeous in his suit, more beautiful than anyone I've ever met. I smile, handing him the latte like a peace offering. "Hi."

"Do you, um, want to sit?" Harry asks, pointing to an empty table. I nod and we each take a seat, placing our drinks on the table between us. 

"I have to tell you something," I say, locking eyes with him. He looks so broken, so defenseless. This is the most vulnerable I've ever seen him, even when he was taking shit from Eliza. 

"Okay," he replies, crossing his legs. "There's stuff I have to tell you too."

"Okay," I reply. "So. The reason I broke up with you and quit my job and never responded to your texts or saw you again..... it was all for the trial. So that we would be able to testify and say we weren't dating. So you would win."

Harry blinks at me. "What?"

"A few days before we broke up, I saw a private investigator following me. Liam called Bruce to get the inside scoop and it turns out Eliza hired him. We found out about her plans and how she got dirt on me, and I asked what we had to do to stop her. He said I had to end it with you, but that you couldn't know. It had to be a real breakup."

Harry stares at me, his eyes widening to the size of teacups. "What? Why didn't you just tell me the truth....?"

"He said not to, said you're not good at testifying to begin with, that it would just make it worse...." I begin. 

I don't know what I expected from Harry, but I didn't think he would be this mad. 

"Louis, I could have worked on it.... are you fucking kidding me? Are you fucking serious? This was all a joke?!" he shouts. 

Oh fuck.

"Haz, I'm sorry...." I begin. But he cuts me off.

"No, fuck sorry, Louis. This whole time, you were sitting here knowing that everything would be fine after the two months. That all we had to do was get through the trial and you could have me back," he snarls. "But me.... I was in the fucking dark!! I thought I lost you forever. Fucking forever. I was hurting every single day, every second, thinking you were never coming back. How is that fair?"

I bite my lip, resisting the urge to slam my fists onto the table. 

"That's not true Harry. I didn't think I could just have you back. I didn't know that you would want me back after what I did," I reply. "I was afraid you would hate me forever, which it seems like you do. And it's been awful for me too.... physically having to restrain myself from seeing you. Having to quit my job. Don't just assume you know what I went through."

"Well at least you had fucking closure," Harry growls. He's pulled his chair several feet away from the table and is just staring at me like I just kicked a puppy in front of him. "If you were going to do a fake breakup, why would you fucking blindside me like that? And why would you blame it on your mental health? That was half the basis of our fucking relationship... that we were fucked up, but we got through it together.... I blamed myself for hurting your progress. But I didn't actually did I?"

"No, you didn't. I don't know why I blamed mental health, I just needed I reason," I say, closing my eyes to hold back tears. "It was wrong. So wrong. I fucked up, Harry. I know I'm the worst person ever! Okay, I know! And it was awful to blindside you, but I didn't mean to. I didn't want to do it at all. I guess I got selfish and decided I just wanted to enjoy it and deal with it at the end of the night... I'm sorry. Okay, I'm sorry for everything. I know I'm the worst."

Harry stares at me, his jaw clenched. "I honestly can't even believe this. You fucked me over so badly, screwed me so hard. And for what? I would have won the trial regardless. No one was going to take Eliza seriously after all her antics."

"I'm an ex-con," I reply. "Juries don't take lightly to that."

"You're unbelievable," Harry says. He throws his head back and begins to laugh. "Are you seriously trying to defend what you did? Your story makes less and less sense each time you explain it!"

I rest my head on the table, breathing heavily. He's right. He's so right.

"And did I mention.... you took my fucking friends. Liam and Niall were in on this too? Are you fucking KIDDING ME?" he demands.

"I had to tell them, Harry! Liam was the one who helped me plan it," I explain. "And Niall needed to know so that he could understand why we couldn't all hangout. I had a private investigator following me around for weeks. They would know if I was with you..."

"Do you hear yourself? Oh my god!" Harry groans. "Liam was the one.... he was probably telling you to do all that so he could get in your pants. I see the way he looks at you. And you two are so handsy... is that what you've been doing all this time? Fucking Liam? Getting all up in his insides? Is that what?"

Harry is screaming so loud that I'm surprised we haven't been kicked out of the cafe at this point. I cringe as he continues to yell at me. I envisioned this to go badly, but not this badly. 

"I'm not fucking Liam," I say, blinking the tears out of my eyes. "I know it sounds stupid but it made sense to me. Ask your lawyer, it makes sense, Harry. I'm not crazy. And if you wanna know what I've been doing, I've been doing the same as you. Grieving the loss of the greatest relationship of my life, of my best friend. I've been broken, too, Harry. Don't just assume I was fine because I wasn't."

Harry looks at me, parting his lips as if he's going to say something, but then he closes them. 

"I was protecting you, Harry," I say, nearly begging. "I'm sorry for the pain I caused you. I'll be sorry for the rest of my life."

He shakes his head, and gets up, tossing his untouched latte into the garbage. 

"I don't think I can forgive you, Louis," he says. His voice is deep, gravelly. "You broke me. This was too much. We could have gotten through the trial together. But you forced me to do it alone. I didn't even have a choice."

"I'm sorry," I squeak. "Harry, please..."

"No," he says. "No, Louis. It's not that simple."

"Well, if you're going to go, if you're going to walk away for good, can I at least ask you something?" I say. 

My heart is shattering into a thousand pieces right now. I kept saying I didn't expect him to take me back, but I guess deep down I did. Or at least I wanted to him to. I never wanted to lose him like this, to upset him like this. 

I hate myself so fucking much right now. 

"What?" he whispers, wrinkling his brow. 

"Do you love me?" I reply. 

He doesn't answer. Instead, he flips it around. "Do you love me?"

"Yes," I reply. "So fucking much."

"No," he says. "Because if you did, you wouldn't have done this."

And with that, he walks away.

A/n: Okayyyyyyyyyy. I am so sorry to make this so sad, but I promise you all from the bottom of my heart that this will have a happy ending. I am not one to end on a breakup and without spoiling I will just say that things get better for them. You're just gonna have to keep reading to find out! 

<3 <3 <3


	44. breakthrough

October 13

Harry's POV

I can't stop crying today.

Not that it's anything new. I've been crying almost every day since Louis dumped me. But today is different. I can't sit up straight. I can't even think about getting out of bed. Every time I try, I collapse back down in a heaping mess of tears and whimpers.

I can't go to work.

Groaning, I crane my neck and spot my phone on the bedside table. I grab it, and between tears, text Liam.

"Not coming in today, not feeling well. Sorry."

He knows why I can't go in. He knows the truth. He's always known the truth, hasn't he? Because Louis told him the truth and not me. He was in on this. So was Niall.

They were all out to get me.

As I cry into my pillow, I try to understand how the very people I thought I could trust could betray me so badly. This is the kind of behavior I would expect from Eliza. Not from my boyfriend and my two best friends.

And I guess you could argue that they were doing it to help me. That their hearts were in the right place. That they wanted to help me maintain custody of James.

But honestly, that doesn't make things any better. It makes them a million times worse. Because intentions aside, they still lied to me. They still took matters into their own hands when it came to MY life, MY child.

And how the fuck can I forgive them for that?

I honestly felt better yesterday when I thought Louis had dumped me for real. I was finally starting to get over it. I still loved him, I was still hurting, but I wasn't as bad as I was two months ago.

Now, as I lie here sobbing, it feels like Louis just dumped me for a second time, and my heart can't take it. Neither can my head

When I hear James cry in the other room, though, I realize I can't lie here all day. Even if I'm taking the day off, I have a job to do. And that's to take care of him - no matter how bad I feel.

Wincing, I lift my body off the bed and go to the kitchen to warm a bottle. Then, I enter his room and pick him up, cradling him in my arms.

"Good morning," I coo, giving him the bottle. James makes an incoherent noise and sucks away at the nipple of the bottle. He closes his eyes as he drinks, and all I can focus on is how precious he is. How innocent, how pure.

He might look just like Eliza, with his blue eyes and blonde hair, but that doesn't even bother me. He's my son too. And I love him more than anything in the world.

As I rock him back and forth, my mind wanders and I start to think about Louis again. He was the one who taught me how to rock James like this. How to warm up bottles, how to change diapers. How to bathe him.

Louis taught me everything I know about babies. Fuck, Louis used to take better care of James than I ever could.

Eventually, James finishes the bottle, and I think back to a time not too long ago when Louis told me he wanted to help out with James all the time.

"No, Harry. I don't mind helping one bit. And that's a great idea, I mean yeah, I don't know what the future holds, but if we did end up together, of course I would help out with James all the time," he had said as we changed James together.

Well I know what the future holds now. And we definitely don't end up together.

But maybe we still can.....

No.

Fuck no.

Immediately, I push that thought out of my mind because, NO. No, we can't fucking end up together after what he did. I can't be with the person who betrayed me.

At the same time, if that's true — and it is— then why do I still want him so fucking bad? Why do I wish I had done things differently in the cafe, that I had hugged him longer, that I had held his hand?

I'll always love Louis. I can't not love him. I accepted that a long time ago. He will always be a part of my heart. But right now I'm so angry, so broken.... And I just can't forgive him.

Not yet.

But as I look at James, who's nuzzled against my chest, I realize that maybe it's possible. Maybe Louis didn't mean to break my heart. In fact, maybe he broke his own in the process, sacrificing his happiness for my custody.

It's not that simple though. I wish it was. I wish I could just take his word for it, that I could just forgive and forget. But I'm not wired that way. I don't forgive anyone easily - not even myself.

I can see his side of things. I can see it- but it doesn't erase the rage and sadness I feel inside. I can't just forgive him overnight. Not after what he did...

It's not long before I put James back in the crib, breaking down sobbing against the gate. My mind is so conflicted I cant think street. I can't breathe, I can't eat.

But I can cut.

And that's what I do. One long horizontal streak across my wrist. I feel disgusting as I do it. I feel like the grossest person on the face of the planet. But I also feel relieved. For a brief, brief moment. And it's the best I've felt in days.

October 16

Louis' Pov

"Liam! It's been three days that he hasn't gone to work. You have to check on him!" I groan, pacing across the floor in my socks.

"Ni went over yesterday. He wouldn't open up. He texted saying he was okay, just wanted to be alone," Liam replies, shooting me a sympathetic look.

"Well, try again. He's definitely not okay," I say as I sink my teeth into my lip.

"Okay, okay, I will," Liam says, grabbing his keys. "What about you though. Are you okay?"

I nod, trying my best to hide how emotionally wrecked I am. "I'm okay, Liam. I would tell you otherwise."

"Well, you didn't finish breakfast..." Liam says, wagging a finger.

I roll my eyes, placing my hands on my hips. "Let's worry about Harry. I'm struggling, I'll admit it. But I made a therapy appointment for Friday. I'll deal with it."

"Alright," Liam says. "That sounds good. I'm gonna go check on him now. I'll keep you posted."

"Thanks, Li," I say.

He leaves and I head to my room, opening my laptop. I have to work on a new article, but it's some stupid shit about men's fashion and I have zero interest In it.

I loved my old job - I loved working with Harry on Adidas and Apple Music and Pret and all these other cool brands. I remember staying in the office late into the evening to finish briefs, writing silly jingles together in the shower, publishing articles that we co wrote.

That all feels worlds away now though. I don't work there anymore, and Harry and I don't talk. Not sure if we ever will.

He's so fucking mad at me. So mad. And it's all justified. I get it, I really do.

Over the past couple of days, I've been blaming myself for how things happened at the coffee shop. I ended up trying to defend myself, when really I should have been empathizing with him, hearing him out, apologizing.

I knew the secret for so long that the situation wasn't even shocking to me anymore. But to Harry, it was extremely surprising - not to mention extremely disturbing. I guess, overcome by my own feelings, I forgot that.

But at the same time - and I guess I'm an asshole for this - I don't get how he couldn't even be partially relieved. Even moderately happy to see me. Did he not miss me? I missed him so fucking bad. Every day.

He said he was hurting, and I believe him. But I was hurting too, and his failure to acknowledge that stabbed me deep into my core.

As I sit and contemplate, my phone rings. How long was I sitting there staring at a blank document?

"Hey, Lou," Liam says. "He was there. We talked for like a half hour. His depression is really bad. I offered to take James for a little, but he doesn't want... well, doesn't want...."

"Doesn't want me to take care of him," I groan. "I know. Okay. Can Niall do it?"

"Yeah, He's on his way now," Liam replies.

"Is he okay? Fuck, this is all my fault," I breathe.

"It's not your fault. It's tough for everyone, Lou. Just focus on you for now, yeah? He'll be alright," Liam says- almost too calmly.

"I don't wan t to focus on myself. I wanna be with Harry," I say, nearly sobbing. Since the court case, I've been very reserved with Liam about my feelings. I guess it's all coming out now. "Is he cutting?"

"Lou," Liam says quietly.

"He is, isn't he?" I cry.

"He's going to see someone about it tomorrow. Louis. Please, just calm down," he replies.

I nearly throw my phone across the room. "No! I will not fucking calm down. This is all my fault, I did this to him. Fuck!"

"You didnt.... it wasn't. Louis. Please. You have to be strong for him. He wants to be with you too," Liam says softly.

"No he doesn't. How would you know?" I ask.

"I just know. Trust me," Liam says. "It'll all work out. I'm almost home. Help me make dinner, yeah?"

"Sure," I reply.

But eating is the last thing in the world I feel like doing.

Harrys POV

October 17

"Harry, what brings in you in today?" the psychologist asks, tapping her clipboard.

"My friend," I grumble. "Wanted me to come in. I've been depressed lately. Can't get out of bed."

"Why?" She asks.

"Breakup. Well we broke up two months ago. But he just told me that he lied to me. The whole breakup was fake," I reply, not caring to elaborate further.

"Why did he fake it?" She asks.

"For a trial.... to prove my home wasn't unfit for my son. He was an ex con and we used to live together," I mutter. The story is so fucked up it's embarrassing to even explain.

"Well it sounds like he was trying to help you, even if it was in a convoluted way," she replies.

"Sure, yeah," i say. But inside I'm seething. This isn't about Louis trying to help me. It's about him trying to destroy me.

"But You feel lied to?" She asks.

I nod, and look at my lap.

"And have you cut yourself as a result of it?" She asks.

I shrug. "we've been working together long enough. I think you know the answer to that."

She stares at me, unsmiling. "Harry, I haven't seen you this hostile in a long time. If you're self harming, we have to address it."

"It's not that bad," I say.

"It's serious. Have you been taking your medication?" She asks.

"Sometimes," I reply.

"Why only sometimes?"

"Because. I don't have the energy lately."

"When Did you stop having the energy?"

"Fuck. I feel like I'm on the fucking witness stand right now! Can you fucking let it go?!"

I'm standing up now, my hands balled into fists, and i have half a mind to snap that fucking clipboard in half.

I don't think I've ever been this enraged in my life. Not since Eliza dumped me, not since I met Louis.

Oh my god.

Eliza and Louis.

Never in a million years did I think there would be a connection between them. She's so toxic and awful, and he's so sweet and funny and caring. They're polar opposites, if I ever saw them. But now, as I stand in the office, ready to blow my fist through the wall next to me, It seems like my relationship to each of them is more similar than I ever realized.

Eliza. I hated her so much back then (and I still do) because she said I wouldn't be able to raise our baby. She literally took my child away, and I didn't have a choice.

And it's the same thing now, with Louis. When he made the decision to go through with his plan, he didn't tell me. He didn't let me in on it. I didn't have a choice there either.

I never have a choice.

"Harry, I'm seriously about to call security unless you sit down," she says, inching towards the button.

"I'll sit, I'll sit," I say quietly, suddenly coming back to my senses. "I just.... i realize it now. I hate him because he took away my control. So did my ex. So did everyone...: they just decide for me. No one ever asks, no one ever tells me. And I'm just so sick of it."

"That's a good reflection. How do you take back control then?" She inquires.

"I don't know... with Eliza, I literally went to court and battled her," I reply.

This woman definitely thinks I'm crazy right now. I'm sweating and nearly falling off the chair, but I'm thinking... And im suddenly feeling energized for the first time in the past week.

"Right, and What about Louis?" She asks. "What do You want from him? An apology?"

"I don't know.... I guess.... but he already apologized," I say.

"Then don't you have control now?" She replies. "What are you going to do?"


	45. crisis

a/n: sorry for the delay in updating. I was at a week long job training. back now! hopefully this chapter was worth the wait. lots of drama and cleaning up unfinished business. i hope you enjoy :) 

November 1st

Harry's POV 

I'm in the hospital right now. An no, I'm not here for myself. I wish I was. Trust me, I really fucking wish I was. Instead, I'm here for James. 

And let me tell you, it's fucking killing me. 

There's nothing worse than having to wait outside the hospital room while your child is getting a procedure done. If it was up to me, I would be in the hospital room the entire fucking time, holding his hand. But I can't be, and so I'm sitting here, feeling helpless and anxious, and trying not to tear my hair out as a wait. 

It all started last night, when I heard James wheezing. He had a cough for the past week, but I took him to the doctor and he prescribed him medicine. After a week on it, he seemed to be getting better. But last night, his cough worsened, and I called the hospital. 

They told me he was probably fine and to monitor him and bring him in the next morning. So I stayed on the couch next to his crib, waiting to see if he improved. When I heard him making choking sounds about an hour later, I dialled 911 right away. Because that didn't seem fucking normal at all. 

Paramedics arrived to my flat and put him on oxygen. I stood there like a fucking deer in headlights while they carried him into the ambulance. I didn't even lock the door behind me, I just slammed it and ran after them. 

I can't even remember the ambulance ride here. I just remember them taking him into a white room and closing the door, telling me not to come inside, that they had to do an emergency procedure. 

"He'll be okay," a nurse with a clipboard told me as I peered through the glass window. The blinds were up but I could vaguely see them hooking up a ventilator, and I nearly fainted at the sight. Just a few hours ago, he was fine, playing with his toys and watching Dora the Explorer. Now, he was in the emergency room - and so was I.

"Oh my god, Harry, is he okay?" 

I hear Eliza's voice and look up to see her rushing towards me, clad in a red ballroom gown with a full face of makeup. She must have come straight from a photoshoot. 

"I think so. It was his lungs. He's getting emergency surgery," I reply. My voice sounds rough, broken almost. 

As Eliza heads towards me, I stand up to face her, wondering to myself whether or not it was a good idea to tell her about this in the first place. As his mother, she has every right to know he was sick, and it would have been wrong to keep this from her. But if I'm being honest with myself, part of me only told her was because I didn't want to be alone at the hospital. 

"Oh my god," she says, taking a seat next to me. "Oh my god, I can't believe this."

Within seconds, she begins to sob, her making smearing everywhere as she cries softly into her hands. I extend my arms and give her a hug, allowing her to cry onto my shoulder. 

"I know," I say. "I'm so worried. I can't stop worrying."

"Did they say what he has at least?" she breathes. She buries herself deeper onto my chest and feel my breath start to hitch. It's been so long since we've touched at all, let alone been this close to each other. 

"It's inflammation in his lungs. Lead to an abscess, they're going to remove it," I explain. It sounds so awful just to say out loud. I can't even imagine what he's going through. 

"Oh my god," she says, crying louder this time. 

"Shhh," I whisper. "Shh, calm down. It's gonna be okay. We have to be strong for him, yeah?"

She nods, but doesn't stop crying. Her chest is rising and falling erratically, and I stroke her back, trying my best to comfort her. 

Seeing her like this almost makes me forget how much of a monster she is at heart. It's been ages since I've seen Eliza cry, and even then, she was always crying for selfish reasons. Now, despite our toxic history, we're both here in the same room crying for the same reasons. We're both here for our son, who is the most important part of both our lives, no matter how separate they are. 

"Let's just distract ourselves for a bit," I suggest, my voice quivering. The truth is, I'm just as nervous as she is, but we can't have both of us sitting here sobbing our hearts out. We have to been calm and collected when he comes out of surgery or when we communicate with the doctors. I know I have to be strong for James, even if it's the last thing I want to do right now. 

"What um... what shoot were you at?" I ask. 

Eliza wipes her nose and sits up. "It was, um. It was Versace."

"Oh, was Greg doing photography?" I ask, trying to move the conversation along. We haven't talked in ages, but I still know her well. You don't just forget the person you spent years in a relationship with. 

"Yeah, he was. It was funny because there's a new photographer, Miles. And they're dating," she replies with a sniffle. 

"Oh," I say. My arm is still around her and she leans into it. "Do you think they ever filmed a porn video together? They have the cameras for it."

"No!" Eliza giggles. "No, of course not. Why would you say that, Harry?"

"Because it made you laugh," I reply, giggling a bit myself. 

Eliza locks eyes with me, and grabs my hand, tracing the cross tattoo next to my thumb. 

"I miss your laugh," she says coyly, pushing her hair behind her ear. "Miss you."

"Eliza -- " I begin, shaking my head. 

"No, Harry. Don't you miss this? Don't you wish we could be like this again? That we could be a family together?" she asks. She looks at me with her bright blue eyes, dragging her tongue across her red-stained lips. 

I shake my head. "Let's not have this conversation now."

"Harry, I'm sorry about how I acted. For this whole entire year, I'm sorry for all of it. I'm sorry about how I went after Louis, I'm sorry about the awful things I said to you... I just. You took him from me, Harry. You took him," she replies, wiping a tear from her eyes. 

"You took him from me first. Also, you said those awful things to me long before James was in the picture," I point out. 

"I know, and I'm sorry. I'm working on it, Harry. I promise I am. That wasn't me back then, I'm different now," she pleads. She squeezes my hand, but I pull it away. 

I look down at my feet, avoiding her gaze and holding my ground. Her eyes are beautiful, but there's a different set of blue eyes that are much more gorgeous to me. 

"Liza," I breathe. "I love someone else. I love Louis. And if you truly mean what you said, if you're truly sorry, then we can work on being friends. We can work on being better co-parents. I can be your friend, but I won't go back to the one who broke me."

Eliza nods, her blonde hair tumbling down her back. "I understand. And I am truly sorry. I am. I want to be friends. I want that."

"Okay," I say, nodding. "Then we can work on that. I'd like to be friends too. Do you want a coffee?"

Eliza nods. "Black."

"Alright," I say, sighing as I realize her problem with food hasn't improved since she left me. Black coffee is zero calories, and based on the looks of her bare arms in this dress, she probably weighs under 100 pounds. "I'll be back in five."

I head down the corridor, rushing to find the kitchen or wherever it is they keep the coffee. The nurses and rolling beds blur around me and I keep my sights fixed on the signs ahead that lead to the dining area.

Eventually, I reach the coffee station and grab two coffees, though I hardly remember going through the act. On my way back, the walls blur around me once again and I hope that I can gain control of my anxiety enough to at least make it back to Eliza in one piece. 

I'm halfway there when a hand reaches out and grabs me, nearly sending the coffee flying. 

"Harry."

I know that voice. I fucking know that voice. 

"Louis?" I say, whirling around to face him. 

My eyes gravitate to his face and I take him in. His eyes are the same beautiful bright blue I remember and his sharp jawline is covered in a thick layer of stubble. It's only been about three weeks since I saw him last, but it feel like longer. 

And as I stare at him in the whitewashed hallway of the hospital, my head swirling with thoughts of James and his surgery, all I can do is sob and crumple into his arms. 

"James is really ill," I cry, nuzzling my face on his neck. 

I feel Louis' hand on my back, his breath on my cheek. "I'm so sorry," he says. "Is there anything I can do?"

Pulling myself up to face him, I shake my head, remembering how wildly inappropriate it is to be hugging him like this after all that's happened. 

"No," I say, slowly moving away from him. "No, I just... I'm sorry to react like that. I just let my emotions get the best of me. I, um. You're in the hospital too. Are you alright?"

"Just doing a checkup," Louis says unsteadily. "But this is far more important. Is he alright? Do you need me to get you something? Seriously, how can I help?"

I blink up at him. How can he help?

I've ignored him for the past bloody month, and all he wants to do is help me? You can't make these things up.

"I... don't you hate me?" I ask, wrinkling my nose. 

Louis shakes his head, his eyes widening. "Why in the world would I hate you?"

I bite my lip. "Because of how rude I was the last time we saw each other."

"You were upset, understandably so," he says. His voice is soft, feathery. He doesn't seem upset with me at all. "I've missed you."

"I've missed you too," I admits. "A lot."

"I'm sorry about what happened between us," he replies. We're in the middle of the hallway now, holding up traffic, but I'm completely oblivious. Louis notices, however, and guides me to the side of the corridor, out of the way of everything. 

"I'm sorry for how I handled things," I reply. "Sorry I didn't call or text. Sorry about all of it."

Louis nods, his icy blue irises dancing in their orbs. He looks thinner than he did last month, which is probably why he's back at the hospital. It's probably my fault. 

"It's more than okay, Harry," he says softly. "I'm the one who should be sorry. I messed everything up."

I am about to reply, but suddenly, my phone buzzes with a message from Eliza. 'He's out of surgery.'

"Fuck, he's done with his surgery!" I nearly blurt out. Without thinking, I grab his hand and lead him down the hallway with me. 

It isn't long before we're at the door of his hospital room. The chart on the door outside reads: "Styles, James A," and I can already see Eliza heading inside. 

"He's okay," she says, tears in her eyes as she stands over James' hospital bed, stroking his little hands.

"Yes, the surgery went well. He should be fine, but we will monitor him overnight," the doctor explains.

"Oh my god, thank you so much," I say, rushing over to plant a kiss on James' head. "I love you so much. You're so strong and brave, James!" 

"He is," Eliza whimpers. "I'm so happy. Oh my god, I was so scared."

We stand there for what feels like hours doting on him and showering him with every compliment we can think of. I think back to the last time James was in the hospital: the day he was born. Eliza wouldn't even let me see him. 

But now, we're standing here, side by side, bonding over our son. OUR son. Because as horrible as Eliza has been over the past year, it doesn't change the fact that we are both his parents. 

Eventually, I turn towards the doorway and remember how Louis is also here. Peaking my head out, I notice him outside sitting patiently. "Didn't want to spoil your moment," he says as I walk over to him. 

"Oh, it's, um. It's fine," I reply, wiping my cheek, which I'm sure is wet with tears. The difference is they aren't tears of fear anymore. They're tears of relief. "You should come inside with us."

Louis blinks, questioningly, but takes my hand and allows me to guide him inside. I don't care what Eliza has to say about this. Louis has been just a big a part of James' life as both of us, if not more because of the sacrifices he made to keep him in my custody. To keep him safe. 

"Hey James, Louis is so happy you're okay too," I say softly. 

"It's okay, Lou, you can touch him. You washed your hands right?" I ask. 

He nods and reaches out to touch his hand. "Yeah, hi James. We're all so glad you're okay."

Eliza, who is on the other side of the bed, stares at Louis but doesn't say anything. 

There's a long bout of silence until finally, the two make eye contact across the bed. 

"Louis," Eliza says quietly. "I owe you an apology."

He stares at her. "W-what?"

"I said, I owe you an apology," she repeats, clearing her throat. "I'm so sorry... I. I'm sorry for everything. The trial and the homophobia and all of it. I've been going to counseling. There's no excuse for my behavior. But I just want you to know I'm sorry. Both to you and Harry."

"I... I don't know what to say," Louis admits. He looks at me and I shrug. 

"Eliza is trying to work on being a better co-parent. We're going to try to be friends," I say, chewing on my lip. "So long as she sticks to her apology."

"Right, well, thanks for apologizing," Louis replies. "I think we all just have the same thing in mind. We just want James safe and healthy."

She nods. "I agree. I know you guys won't forgive me overnight. But I hope this is at least at start. To be honest, I've been going through something personal that's affected my mood - and well, everything."

Louis shoots her a knowing look, their blue eyes connecting. "I think I know what you mean. There's actually some great resources here at the hospital that might help. Walk-ins welcome."

Eliza nods, but darts her eyes towards the ground. It's too painful to talk about. For all of us. 

"Well, let's let him get some rest," I say, giving James one last kiss. 

"Of course, he must be exhausted," Eliza replies. 

She heads outside, and Louis and I follow shortly after her. 

Once we're in the hallway, I turn to Louis and grab him by the waist. Then I do what I've wanted to do for the past three months. I fucking kiss him.


	46. promises

a/n: hey so I usually never back-track and repeat the same series of events but in this one I did because I wanted to show you Louis' perspective of the hospital scene.

Nov 1

Louis' POV

I fucking hate Monday's. First, because they're MONDAYS. Second, because it means I have to go to the doctors. It's a lose, lose really.

Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to get dressed and leave Liam's apartment for an appointment that was long overdue. I hadn't been to the doctor's in nearly a month, and I'm certain that my doctors are not going to be happy with me.

I haven't been following my meal plan. I tried to keep up with it as much as I could, but once Harry rejected me in the coffee shop, I stopped caring about my health. Why did it even fucking matter anyways?

Liam and Niall tried to assure me that it did. That I had all these people rooting me on, and that I owed it to myself to recover so I could get better.

But I didn't want to get better anymore. I just wanted Harry. I wanted Harry, but he didn't want me. How fucking lovely.

In the weeks following the rejection, I went through different phases of emotions. At first, I stayed home from work and cried a ton. Then, I started overthinking everything, and worrying about every syllable I said to him in the coffee shop, analyzing every word of my testimony. And finally, about a week later, I got angry. And I mean really fucking angry.

I was livid.

If I had to describe the feeling, I would probably say that it felt like someone had injected my bloodstream with burning hot lava. Because I was so fucking mad I felt like my skin was on fire.

Harry. Fucking Harry.

The very same person who broke me a few months ago is the same one who's destroying me now. Coincidence? Definitely not.

I started to hate Harry. I hated him for making fun of my weight. I hated him for apologizing, for taking me to the hospital, for sharing his story with me. For making me think that he fucking loved me. That he fucking cared. Because he didn't care. He must not have ever cared. If he did, he wouldn't have done this.

I thought our relationship was strong, that we could survive anything. Distance, evil baby mamas, anorexia. But here I was, sobbing into my hands every night because I gave up everything to save his son, and all he did in return was call me a monster.

I could never get over that part. The fact that Harry could overlook everything I did for him, everything we had been through. That even after I sent multiple apology texts, he ignored them. That even when I told him I loved him, he told me he was certain I didn't.

How could he possibly say that to me? Of course I loved him. Of course I would do anything for him - in fact, I already did.

Over time, the anger started to simmer down, leaving me with a hollow void where my feelings used to be. I guess that void was always there, especially after the breakup. But in the interim, I had stuffed that hole with my hopes and dreams, my wishes that Harry would take me back. My fantasies that we would end up together.

Now, those dreams were torn to shreds, and there was nothing to fill that hole. Nothing but exercise, restricting, dieting. The things that I know are bad for me, but always run back to. Because at the end of the day, they're my only reasons to keep going.

So as I entered my doctor's appointment that fateful Monday, eyes glazed over and lips pursed shut, I nodded my head robotically and listened to all the things wrong with me, all the things I was doing wrong.

They were talking about me being unhealthy, not having enough electrolytes or body fat... who knows what else. It's nothing I haven't heard before. Honestly, I was kind of surprised I didn't have more ailments than the ones they were listing. I sure felt like shit.

When I went to leave the appointment, I had every intention of hightailing it out of there, but my throat felt dry, and I decided to stop at the water station first.

That's when I saw him.

There were a million things I could have said in that moment.

A spiteful "Hey asshole."

A tense "How have you a been?"

Or I could have just simply walked past him, no questions asked.

In the end, I didn't do any of those things. I wanted to. Trust me, I wanted to. But then I saw him.

I saw his face, his eyes, his lips. And I didn't even care what he looked like. Harry is gorgeous and always has been. But what I did care about was the look in his eyes when I called his name and he turned to me.

As his pupils locked with mine, I saw his jaw soften and his lips part. He didn't just look sorry - he looked remorseful.

He looked like he knew what he did wrong, like he felt the same way I was feeling. He looked apologetic, embarrassed, ashamed.

And that was all I needed, honestly. I didn't need a verbal apology. I didn't need a hug. I just need to see that look on his face, because it spoke more to me than any words could have.

It wasn't long before he was in my arms, sobbing. He told me James was sick, he didn't know what to do. It wasn't what I was expecting, but I held him there like old times, stroking his hair and assuring him it would be okay.

He eventually pulled away, embarrassed. Asked me if I hated him.

That was my chance to release the fury. To tell him everything that I had been wanting to say to him since that day in the coffee shop. But I didn't. I just told him I wasn't mad. I just missed him. Because that was the truth all along, wasn't it.

Fast forward fifteen minutes, and I was waiting outside the door to James' hospital room. He was fine, thank god. I genuinely couldn't imagine what would have happened if he wasn't. Eliza was there - Eliza of all people - but I didn't say anything. I just sat and waited until they were done checking on him. Then, Harry invited me inside the room to see him, and out of nowhere, Eliza apologized to me. APOLOGIZED.

And I thought that was the most shocking thing to happen to me all day. That was until Harry kissed me.

He kissed me and it felt like our first kiss. His lips explored mine, passionately, and he grasped my neck with a firm hand, sending shivers down my spine. I deepened the kiss, sending my tongue further into his mouth. I heard him whimper and then felt his hands cupping my jaw fiercely as he nibbled on my bottom lip.

In that moment, nothing else mattered. Not our history, not Eliza, not my doctors. None of it.

It was just Harry and I showing each other how much we cared, communicating our affection without words, without reason.

"I love you," I whispered, gasping for breath. My eyes were filled with tears and so were Harry's. His hands trembled slightly as he grabbed my waist.

"I love you too," he replied, stroking my cheek. "I never stopped."

It felt like something out of a movie scene, and now, as I sit in Harry's apartment the next morning, cradling James, I can't help but replay it in my mind.

I want him. I've always wanted him. Always wanted us.

He's my reason.

"How was your shower?" I ask, as Harry returns to the living room, clad in black slacks and a polo. We just got back from the hospital and I offered to watch James while he took a shower, since he had been under so much stress for the past few hours.

"Good. Nice to finally shower after staying in the hospital all night," he admits with a cheeky smile. "Though I would have stayed there all week if I had to. Right James? Daddy loves you so much."

I smile, my heart instantly warming as I watch him grab James' tiny hand. Harry's such a loving father. As clueless as he can be sometimes, he's always genuine and compassionate.

"Of course," I reply, rocking in my chair a bit. "I missed him. He's so cute."

Harry nods, placing a hand on the small of my back. It's been ages since he's touched me there, but it feels just as intense as I remember.

"He missed you too, Lou," Harry replies softly. "We both did."

I nod, pressing a kiss onto James' forehead. "Think he's ready for bed?"

"Yeah," Harry replies, taking him from me. "Gonna watch the baby monitor extra closely tonight. He took all his medicine so he should be okay. And Eliza is taking him to the pediatrician in the morning to double check."

"Eliza," I say, watching as Harry places James in the crib. "Crazy how she apologized..."

"I know," Harry admits, his green eyes widening. "Wasn't expecting that. But let's see if she actually means it. Who knows with her. I don't trust her so easily."

"That's true," I reply. We head into Harry's room, and he takes a seat on the bed.

I sit on the chair in the corner of the room, unsure if I should cross that boundary just yet. A kiss doesn't necessarily mean that everything is better.

"So speaking of apologies..." I continue. I bite my lip, wondering if my stubble is too overgrown for Harry's taste or if he thinks I look fat or a million other things that might be wrong with my appearance. "I'm sorry. Again."

Harry nods. "I'm sorry too... I... Like I said before, I was so immature in the coffee shop. I thought back on it. I realized that I can forgive you... I just needed time."

"And you forgive me now, fully?" I ask. My voice is growing raspier by the second. My hands are shaking. I feel lucid.

"I think so," Harry says. Nearly three feet of carpet are separating us and I'm not sure if I'd rather sob on his chest or make love to him. I've missed him so much.

"I... This has been the hardest three months of my life without you," I admit, sniffling.

The anger is gone now. I don't even remember being angry. Perhaps my rage was just a coverup for what I felt underneath: sadness, despair, disappointment.

Maybe I wasn't even mad at Harry after all; maybe I was mad at myself.

"It's been the hardest three months for me too," Harry admits. "I... how have you been?"

He looks me up and down, inspecting my body for any signs of malnutrition. Harry can see right through the baggy clothes and the plastered on smile. He knows I'm sick again, and I don't even try to hide it.

"I'm sorry," I croak. "I tried to stay strong but I couldn't."

Harry shakes his head, motioning for me to come onto the bed. I get up and he pulls me into his lap, bridal style. I look up into his eyes, hoping that he'll forgive me.

"Never apologize," Harry says. "You don't have to apologize, Louis. You're sick. At least you recognize that and you took action and went to the hospital. That's huge."

"But I only went because Liam made me," I say, nuzzling onto his shoulder.

"You still went. You still showed up. I'm so sorry things are still so hard for you, I probably just made them worse," Harry says, his face darkening.

I sit up, shaking my head frantically. "No, Harry. I made them worse. I did. It's not my fault I'm like this, but I always have a choice. The choice to be strong and go against the voice, or the choice to give in. It's easy to just give in. That's why I do it, because it's easier. Because I don't want to feel uncomfortable or challenge myself. I'm not weak, but I choose to be. Because I'm scared."

"I'm scared too," Harry replies. He traces soft circles on my back with his fingers and I melt into his embrace. Then, he holds up a wrist, littered with fresh cuts. "I give in too."

I grab hold of his wrist, nearly crying. It hurts me to see him like this. I don't care at all what I do to myself and my body, but I care what he does to his. A double standard that's always been intact throughout our relationship: I can hurt myself, but he can't.

"Just because we relapsed doesn't meant it'll always be this way," Harry says, brushing a stray piece of hair out of my eyes. "I just want to see you happy. When was the last time you were happy?"

I close my eyes, trying to think back to the last time I was genuinely, truly happy.

"I think," I say. "I think it was that last date we had. When we went that diner with the live music and then saw a movie. I knew it was going to be the worst night ever, but I forced myself to stay in the present moment. To enjoy every last second with you. To taste the food, to revel in the music, to stare into your beautiful eyes. That last hour with you was the most important hour of my life. Because in that moment, all I cared about was you. And our date, and the beauty of the things around us... I was so happy, Harry. That was the last time."

Harry nods, gripping his bicep with his free hand. "That was the last time I was happy too. I could only focus on you, on your energy. Your voice, your eyes. You made it so special for us. I couldn't stop smiling."

I'm sitting next to Harry now, cuddling closely against him. I can feel his heart beating quickly, and I'm sure mine is pumping just as fast. I feel so connected to him, more than I have to anyone else. I love him too much, and maybe that's why I have no idea what to say.

"We love each other but not ourselves," Harry says, barely audible. His eyes scan the baby monitor and after checking that everything is alright, he returns his attention to me, waiting for an answer. "What does that mean?

"It means," I say, my tongue heavy in my mouth. "That we're better together than apart."

"Are you sure, Tommo?" Harry asks, raising an eyebrow. "Because I'm so nervous I'm going to hurt you again. Or that you'll hurt me."

A sharp pain shoots down my chest and I nod. Because I suddenly remember how capable we are of hurting each other. I suddenly start to relive those months of torture, those days of unbearable pain.

I swallow thickly, facing him. "I know. But I trust you."

Harry nods, but doesn't say anything. Instead, he pulls me onto him, kissing my neck, running his hands down my back. He cringes as his hand hits my spinal cord, and I look up sympathetically, knowing how bad things are.

I go to pull away, but Harry stops my hand, putting it gently to my side.

"Hey, shhh. Stop that," Harry says, planting a kiss on my forehead. "You trust me right?"

I nod, though it's hard to keep the tears from flowing.

"Okay," he breathes. "Well we're going to get better. Both of us. I promise."


	47. too much

November 19

Harry's POV

"That's $20.50 for the roses."

"Thanks," I reply, handing over the cash. "Keep the change."

It's a Friday evening and I'm at the florist picking up flowers for Louis. He's coming over tonight and I'm taking him on a dinner cruise, though it's a surprise still. I hope he'll be okay with sharing dinner with me. He's been doing better lately, but is still struggling. I wish I could do more to help him. But he says I'm already doing enough.

As I collect my flowers and head to the train, I can't stop thinking about that day in the hospital when I first ran into him. I had been so emotional about everything - about James, about Eliza, about myself. But then I saw him and for a minute I felt like things might actually be okay. He said he didn't hate me - he never hated me. He said he was sorry.

I can lie to myself all I want but the truth is all I've done since the breakup is miss Louis. And now that I have him back, I'm trying to do everything in my power to make sure I don't lose him again.

Things aren't the way they used to be. They never will be, I don't think. Two much has happened between us. Louis still works at a different company, even though he hates it. I'm currently working part time with Niall and Liam, but spending Mondays and Thursdays working on my new poetry collection.

I wish we could be together, in the same little cubicle coming up with campaign ideas all day long. But Louis said he's not ready for that yet, and I guess I'm not either. We need some space, some boundaries. We can't dive in again so quickly.

It hurts though, when he leaves my apartment at 2am when all I want is to cuddle and have him spend the night. It hurts when he tells me he has to work late and can't come over. I can't help but crave what we once had - a life together, working at the same place, living in the same house. But I guess that never really worked out for us in the first place.

The train stops and I exit the subway and start to head up the stairs to the street. Liam's apartment is only a few blocks away and I walk over, my stomach twisting in knots with each stop.

I shouldn't be nervous. He's my boyfriend. But I just want this to be perfect. Or rather, I want to show him how perfect he is.

Louis hasn't been well lately, and he'll be the first one to tell you that. When I saw him in the hospital, he was looking thin again. It wasn't as drastic as it was during the wintertime, but I could tell something wasn't right. He didn't look healthy, didn't look whole.

"Lou," I said, two nights after we reconnected in the hospital. "I wish you could see how beautiful you are. I wish you knew how much you meant to me."

Louis smiled and sipped on his black coffee. "Harry, you're too sweet."

"Not trying to be sweet love," I said, biting my lip. "I just want you to feel better. You don't deserve this."

He smirked, cocking his head to the side like a curious golden retriever. "I feel better already with you here."

"Nah," I chuckled. "I annoy you."

"No way, Haz," he said, reaching across the table and giving my hand a squeeze. "You make me want to be normal. I want to be able to go to cafes and hotels and everything. I want my life back. I want it back with you."

Not gonna lie, I cried a bit after that. But we hugged and he kissed my neck and we left the coffee shop hand in hand.

Now, I'm on his doorstep and I'm trying not to think about how scared I am. Not just for our relationship, but for him. For his health, for his wellbeing.

Bracing myself, I knock on the door and it opens quickly, nearly a second later.

To my surprise, it's not Louis, but Liam. He locks eyes with me, a concerned expression on his face.

"Hey, Li," I say cheerily. "What's wrong?"

Liam steps out into the hall, lowering his voice to a whisper. "He's gained some weight," he says. "Which is good, like thank god. But now he's freaking out over his outfit. Having a breakdown, really."

I nod, running my thumbnail across the cuticle of my index finger. "How bad?"

"He said he would rather die than look like this," Liam replies, wincing.

"Uhh," I breathe. "Okay. I'll go check on him."

Liam nods and follows me into the apartment, lingering in the kitchen while I knock on the bathroom door. To be honest, Louis and I have only been on a few dates since we got back together, none of which involved any serious intimacy aside from cuddling and the occasional blowjob. I haven't really seen his body, as it's been hidden under his baggy clothes.

"Lou?" I say, knocking gently on the door.

No answer.

"Lou?" I repeat.

"Just a second," he mutters. I can hear him banging into things and I get closer to the door, lowering my voice.

"Babe, it's me, can I come in?" I ask.

Louis swings the door open. "No, um. I'm ready. Sorry the delay," he replies, flustered.

I can see a pile of clothes on the floor, probably all of the rejects after he changed twenty different times. He settled on a pair of black jeans with a baggy white Tshirt and a jean jacket.

"No problem. Also, I got you flowers. They're on the windowsill ," I say, taking his hand. "You okay?"

He nods, avoiding eye contact and thanks me for the flowers.

"What's wrong?" I ask.

"Just look gross in this outfit," he huffs, tugging on the jean jacket.

"Baby," I say, stroking his shoulder. "You look lovely. I love this outfit. Is it new?"

Louis nods, though his eyebrows are still furrowed together. "Yea. Sorry, for holding everything up. We should go."

Nodding, I begin to head out, making eye contact with Liam as we leave. He gives me a sympathetic look, which I reciprocate, and then Louis and I walk down the stairs and out of the flat.

"Are you okay with dinner or do you want to do something else?" I ask.

The question lingers in the air like mist on a rainy morning. I smile at him, but he doesn't look happy. He hasn't looked happy, really, since the day in the hospital.

"I... I can eat dinner," he replies, looking down at the sidewalk.

"But that's not what I asked, love," I say. "I asked if you want to eat at a restaurant."

"I... yeah, I want to," he replies quietly.

"Okay."

The train ride to the quarry is silent and tense. Lou allows me to wrap my arm around his shoulder, but he keeps his eyes focused on the pole in front of him, and barely reacts when I tickle or touch him.

When we arrive to the boat, he cracks a smile for the first time that night. "This is so cool, Harry! Hope you don't get seasick!"

"I hope you don't," I jest. It's only afterwards that I realize I shouldn't have said that.

We board the boat and make our way to the table where we're to be eating dinner. It's at the back of the boat and has a lovely view of the river as well as a series of string lights wrapped around the balcony area next to us.

The waitress hands us our menus and I browse mine, keeping a careful watch on Louis as he does the same.

"I'll just get the salmon," he says, after a little while, pushing the menu away.

"Sounds yummy. I'll get the lamb," I reply. "Your eyes look so beautiful in the moonlight."

"Harry," Louis giggles. "Trying to serenade me with your poetry? It's not working."

"Maybe," I laugh. I inch my seat closer, glad that he's finally opening up more. I hate when he's guarded.

"So hows James?" Louis asks, smiling.

"He's good. He has to take his medicine still, but he's doing so much better," I reply. "How are you, lovely? You kicked ass at tennis the other day!"

Did I mention I'm allowed to play tennis with the boys again? Because I am now. Though, to be honest, it hasn't been easy mending my relationship with Liam and Niall It's been a slow and stressful reintroduction to the friend group -- not to mention awkward. I wasn't the nicest to them when I was going through the breakup. In fact, I said some bloody awful things. I accused Liam of fucking Louis despite the fact he has a boyfriend... Not pretty.

Ni and Li have been good sports about it, though, as they always are.

"We're both really sorry how things unfolded," Niall said to me over brunch a few weeks ago. "We shouldn't have lied. We shouldn't have split up the friend group."

"Yeah, mate. Sorry for all of it," Liam added. "It must have been awful for you, and we're so sorry."

I nodded, taking a bite of my avocado toast. I couldn't stay mad at them. I had already forgiven Louis, who I was the most upset with. The least I could do was forgive them.

"It's okay, mates," I replied. "I think we can put it in the past. I'm sorry too. I wasn't the easiest person to be friends with these past few months."

"Don't sweat it, mate. We totally understand," Niall said. "No hard feelings?"

"No hard feelings," I replied.

"Let's drink to that!" Liam said with a smile.

And we clinked our mimosa glasses together, giggling like old times as we downed the sweet, fizzling drinks.

"I was quite good at tennis," Louis replies after taking a sip of his water. "Kinda miss footie still though. Our old team is undefeated as of yet. But next year, right?"

"Next year," I say, toussling Lou's hair. "Of course."

We go on to place our orders, and it's not long before the food arrives, garnished in herbs and spices with a side of vegetables.

"This looks good," I say, cutting my lamb off the bone.

Louis nods and cuts his food up into tiny pieces, twitching his leg as he does so. I begin to eat, but Louis stares at his food, as if trying to figure out what to do with it.

"I love lamb," I say, awkwardly, trying to make conversation.

"It's good. Rather different," Louis says. He's still not eating. It's been a few minutes now. Do I address it?

"Yeah. Only the French really make it well," I continue, taking a bite.

"Yup. That and duck," Louis says with a nod.

"Mhm," I say. "You okay?"

Louis looks up, his blue eyes shimmering with tears. "Harry, I think we should break up again. I'm sorry."

I nearly drop my entire plate on the table. "What?"

"I'm just so fucked up right now, like I can't do this," he cries. "I'm disgusting, Harry. I can't do anything, I'm a nightmare to be around. I just hate myself."

"Okay," I say. I get up and crouch down next to his seat , wrapping my arms around him. "Just breathe, it's okay. You don't have to eat this. It's okay."

Louis thrusts his arms up, pushing me off him. "No, it's not even about the food, Harry. I'm just... I'm a trash human. I'm awful. I don't... want to be here..."

"Okay, babe, just breathe, please. Just breathe," I say, stroking his back.

"I can't even go on a fucking dinner date without a panic attack. I ruined our relationship - and even when we were dating I just... I was the worst I was always lying to you and hiding food and doing a million jumping jacks. I'm awful, Harry. I'm a liar all I do is lie. I hate myself. I hate myself so fucking much."

People are starting to stare now, so I stand next to Louis, blocking people from looking at him. "None of that is true, Louis. None of it. You lied because you wanted to protect James. And when you lied about food, it was because you were scared. It's okay. I love you no matter what."

"How?" he sobs. He's standing up now too, throwing his napkin on the ground violently. "How can you? I'm disgusting."

"Hey," I growl. "Don't you ever say that about yourself, okay? You're gorgeous."

"I'm not!" he says. He shoves my chest and I fall backwards, onto the railing of the balcony.

I stare at him, shocked, and watch as he lifts up his shirt, pulling at the tags on his clothes. "Do you see this size? I used to be four sizes smaller. I'm the fattest fucking anorexic in the clinic. Can't even do that right."

Oh my god. He hates himself so much. More than I hate myself. And I hate myself a ton.

"Louis, the size doesn't matter," I say, locking eyes with him. "I love you for the person you are."

"Bullshit," Louis says, rolling his eyes. "Size always matters. You know what? Fuck it. I'm going to eat this. I will. Because I'm so fat anyways."

He rushes to the table, shoving the salmon down his mouth, grabbing at the basket of bread he stared at warily just a few minutes earlier.

"Louis - " I begin. But I don't even know what to say. He's eating the fish with his hands now - I've never seen him like this...

"Is this want you want Harry? You want me to go to treatment and get fat and disgusting? Because that seems to be my only option," he shouts.

"I -- no.." My throat feels tight, like it might close at any moment. I've never felt so helpless.

He's still shoving down the fish, licking the plate clean dramatically. "Should I eat your food next?" he asks, grabbing for my ribs. He looks like he's about to be sick... and I can tell now that that's his plan. Probably was all along.

"Louis, stop," I say, sternly. I take a step towards him.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he growls. "But nothing is off limits for this fatty."

That's it. I rush over to him, pulling the plate away, and pulling him down to the ground.

"Get the fuck off of me," he screams. But I grab his arm, putting it behind his back, and sit down next to him.

"You have to stop," I say. "Please."

Louis doesn't answer. He just starts throwing up all over the floor of the boat, and I pull him quickly to the railing, helping him aim over it.

He's sobbing now, crying as he heaves over the deck. I rub his back, trying not to cry myself.

"I'm sorry," he pleads. "I'm so sorry. I lost it. I'm so crazy. I ruined everything."

He turns to me, wiping his mouth, and then puts his face in his hands. "I'm sorry Harry. You don't deserve this. You were just trying to do something nice for me... I'm sorry."

"Hey," I say, pulling him in for a hug. "Louis, look at me."

He looks up, guilt washing over his face and darkening his features.

"I love you, literally no matter what," I say. "No matter what. I don't care how sick you are, how messy things get. Louis, no one in this world matters more to me than you. Except maybe James, because he's my son. And my mum. But Louis, you are my number one priority. And all I want - literally all I want - is to make sure you're happy."

He tried to interject but I shake my head.

"Nothing you can say or do will change my mind," I continue. "Unless you like murdered my family. But seriously, Lou, we went through such a tough time these past few months. I didn't think I could forgive you, but I did. Because I can never stop thinking about you, I can never stop being in love with you. You're my reason, Louis. Do you remember that? You're my reason, always."

"Harry, I love you so much," he whimpers, falling onto my chest. "I don't deserve you."

"I don't deserve YOU," I correct him. "And we're gonna keep working on it until you do believe that you deserve me. That you deserve love. I'm here to help."

"But you're sick too," he sniffles. "I was trying so hard these past few weeks to be normal for you, so you wouldn't have to worry about me. That's why... I wanted to keep our boundaries. So you wouldn't find out. But you did tonight... it's gotten so bad, Harry. So fucking bad."

He pauses to wipe his eyes and I kiss his temple tenderly. He feels a bit warmer than usual.

"I... it's not even the weight. I'm in the safe zone with my weight, I followed meal plan and everything, it's just the aftermath. The mental part. I feel so huge. I never could keep the weight on - I was never a healthy weight for more than a few months. It's just disgusting, I feel obese."

I look at him, taking in his body as I hold him. I guess he's right, this is probably the heaviest weight I've seen him at. His thighs are touching and his arms have gotten bigger. But he's still thin and fit. He just can't see it.

"I promise," I say, stroking his back. "I promise you won't always feel like this."

"When will it stop feeling like this?" he asks, his blue eyes desperate for answers.

"I don't know," I reply. "But until it does, I am going to show you every single day how beautiful you are. Starting right now. On this boat. Louis, you're the most gorgeous person I ever met, inside and out. And I can't tell you how pretty you look under the stars."

Louis stares at me, his face blank, but I notice the side of his mouth twitch up into a half smile.

"Hey, can you let me do something, yeah?" I ask, taking a few steps back. "Smile for me, cutie. I'm gonna take your picture."

Louis shoots me a look of horror, but I shake my head. "One picture, you look great."

He rolls his eyes and then poses for the picture, his thin lips spreading into a forced smile.

I shake my head. "Smile like you mean it. Smile like you just got fucked."

Louis snorts, laughing a little, and I capture the shot.

"See," I say. I return to him and show him the photo. "You're so fucking beautiful. Always."

Louis looks at the photo, smiling. "Not as pretty as you, Styles."

a/n: one more chapter to go. It'll be the epilogue :) a fast forward of a few months told from louis' POV. Do you have any unanswered questions? Let me know!


	48. epilogue

A/n: Hey guys - this will be the last chapter. I am so sad for this story to end! I loved reading your comments and seeing that people were engaging with this story. I can't put into words how much it means to me. I know it's just a story, but to me it's much more than that. I've dealt with a lot of what Louis goes through, and for me it was so powerful to share that experience and show others that they're not alone in their struggles.

This story started off very dark, and I genuinely thought that would turn most people away from it, but so many of you stuck through and I'm so grateful. Sometimes you need to go through darkness to get to the light, and I hope I've shown that throughout this story.

Anyways, I wish everyone the very best and I hope that you enjoyed the story! We started on Louis' POV so we will end on it too. Fast forward 7 months into the future.

May 1 - the following year 

"Harry, let's go!" I shout from the hallway. I adjust the collar of my pastel pink shirt and shuffle down the stairs to the car, hoping Harry is following after me.

Sure enough, he's not. And so I head back upstairs, only to nearly crash into him as he sprints down the hallway with James in his arms.

"Ah, sorry Lou! Couldn't tie my tie," he says, as we speed walk together. "It's not bad if James is late to his own christening, right? Or maybe I'll just rush..."

I chuckle and shake my head. "You can't speed to the church, Harold. Baby on board. They'll have to wait."

As we reach the car, Harry hands James off to me and I strap him into his carseat, double checking that the clips are fastened. James is one now, and his hair has grown in a dark brown color - just like Harry's. He has Eliza's eyes, bright blue, and a smile that could melt your heart. I rattle one of the toys on James' carrier and then close the door, popping into the passenger seat. Harry floors it, not worrying if I've even managed to close my door.

"I'm so nervous," Harry huffs, clawing at his collar. He's wearing a white button down with black slacks and he looks absolutely gorgeous. Not too long ago he cut his hair - which I thought would be the death of me, honestly - but it looks flawless. In fact, having shorter hair helps to showcase his pretty face even more.

"Don't worry, babe," I say, squeezing his thigh. "I should be nervous. I'm the god father."

Harry snorts. "Just make sure he doesn't drown in the holy water and you'll be fine."

We make it into the church with minutes to spare, and Harry rushes to his pew next to Eliza, quietly apologizing. She offers him a tense smile and takes a deep breath. It's not great, but it's also not the worst reaction in the world. Trust me, it could have gone way worse...

Eliza. Wow, where do I even start with her? Over the past several months, Eliza has transformed from an absolute dragon to a slightly less threatening lizard. She's still blunt and rough around the edges, but she's stood by her apology and has stopped bullying Harry and I entirely. 

Personally, all I ever really wanted from Eliza was for her to shut the fuck up and treat me with some respect. And she's managed to do that for the most part. But she told Harry she wanted to be a better friend and coparent with him. And after a few weeks it was clear that a friendship was not in the cards.

"I can't be her friend... she was trying to tell me about her bikini wax and her Tinder matches. She asked me to go to the spa with her," Harry told me one day after work. "What the fuck, Lou?"

"Yikes," I replied, handing him a cup of tea. "Hell to the no. Just tell her it's too weird to be friends."

"I have to. I will," Harry replied. "Shit's too crazy."

And so he told her off nicely, saying that their history was too complicated for a friendship. Eliza, unsurprisingly, was very salty about it, and has been guarded about her personal life ever since. But she keeps her anger under control when coordinating times to visit with James, and has even managed to plan some events for him that involve both parents. This christening being one of them.

"Hey, Lou," Harry said a couple of weeks ago when he found out about it. "You know I'm like, not religious at all, yeah?"

"Yeah," I replied.

"Well Eliza is Catholic. Wants James to have a christening," Harry continued, biting his lip seductively - a classic tactic to butter me up. "I thought... well, I thought it would be a good idea. Get the family together and all. And she wants her sister to be the godmother. But I can pick the god father and...."

"I'll do it!" I said excitedly.

"For real?"

"Yes! Godfather gaylord Louis, at your service."

"We're so going to hell."

"At least James won't be!"

We laughed over that for a while, as the christening felt worlds away - not even a tangible thing really. But eventually, the weeks turned into days and the days turned into hours and I'm now I'm standing at the alter next to Eliza's sister, handing off little James to a priest so they can dunk him into a vat of holy water. (How do they even make it holy?)

The whole thing is absurdity if I've ever seen it. But it's making Harry happy, so that's gotta be something. It's the first time his family is meeting James - fuck, his mum even flew in from Scotland. So it's a big deal for him, and who am I to take that away?

So of course, I showed up in my most flamboyant pink shirt and skin tight slacks, spritzed on a bit of body glitter just for kicks, and brought my gay ass here to anoint my god child.

As I wipe a sharp piece of glitter out of my eye (not the best decision), I think back to just six months ago where none of this would have been possible. Back then, I probably wouldn't have been able to stand in front of the alter had I been covered with a hazmat suit, let alone tight clothes and body glitter.

But somehow I'm doing it. And it might sound a little conceited, but I'm really fucking proud of myself for it.

This shit didn't happen overnight either. Not even close. If I'm being honest, I'm not quite sure how to even explain my transformation. It was so complicated, with so many ups and downs, that it's hard to know for sure when things changed. But if I had to choose, I would probably say that the night on the boat with Harry was a major turning point in the process. It was my rock bottom. Or rather, my second rock bottom. My first was my seizure at the hospital.

But that evening on the boat was a new kind of rock bottom. It wasn't a physical one, it was a mental one. That night, I saw a side of myself I don't ever want to see again. I saw my eating disorder become more than just a voice in my head -- I watched it take over and consume me completely. I was honestly so far gone that I wanted to die. I wanted to throw myself off the side of that boat and never look back.

I had so much hatred inside me. And not for Harry, not for Eliza. Not for anyone but myself. I hated myself so much it hurt. Just touching my own skin made me feel sick. I disgusted myself.

And so, as I stood over the nicely decorated table, shoveling down chunks of fish with my bare hands - only to vomit it up a few seconds later - I realized that I had a serious fucking problem. That it was way out of hand. 

I realized that I needed to stop. I HAD to stop. Because if I didn't, I would never lead a normal life. 

So I went to treatment. I followed my meal plan. I went to therapy. And those things helped. Yes, they helped, but they're not what got me where I am today. What got me here, to this alter in all my sparkly glory, was my determination.

Because gaining weight is only a fraction of the battle. The rest of it is healing yourself mentally enough to keep it on.

I didn't want to keep the weight on. I really didn't want to. Of course I didn't. I was anorexic -- that was the last thing in the world I fucking wanted to do. But I knew it was the only way to reach normalcy. The only way to get my life back. 

So I decided to do a lot of reflecting. Hours and hours of it. And not just on my traumatic past, like I did in therapy, but instead on myself. On my actions, on my history. I started to think back on my attempts at recovery in the past and ask myself where it all went wrong. Sometimes a physical event set me back, while other times it was just my own insecurities.

Either way, the only time I even came close to recovering was when I got new clothes with Harry. My therapist had told me to just keep looking at myself in the mirror until I accepted what I saw, or at least didn't hate it.

I remembered how I took her advice, and how it took a long ass time, but eventually I didn't hate it. I worked up the courage to get new clothes. I made progress.

I had to get to that place again. Where I didn't feel so disgusting, so repulsive. And exercising wasn't going to do it. Harry's compliments - as much as I appreciated them - weren't going to do it. It had to come from me.

After the night on the boat, I set out on a journey to try and accept myself, especially at my new weight. My weight...fuck, let's talk about weight. Because I never really did mention exact numbers.

So, at my lowest, I was 110. I'm 5'9, so I'm supposed be between 145 and 175.... yeah. It was bad.

Before I started losing weight, I was about 160. So yeah, I lost 50 pounds. I started gaining it back, though, once I started trying to recover. I never did reach 110 again, as hard as I tried. When I was with Harry on the boat, I was 140. Moderately healthy.

Now, I'm 155.

I overshot, I know. I only needed to gain five more pounds, but I went out and gained fifteen. And a few months ago, that would be enough to make me want to gauge my eyes out.

But I've grown to come to terms with it, just like I've grown to come to terms with my body.

The first thing I'm going to say is that it wasn't pleasant. I gained so much weight that I broke down crying some days after seeing the number on the scale at the doctor. When I started getting stretch marks on my thighs, I wanted to puke until I saw blood. And one day, as I ran a hand across my softening torso, I felt like burying myself alive.

But I had to push through. There was no other option. I could not continue to live my life afraid. It wasn't fair to me - it wasn't fair to Harry.

Harry.

Harry was such a fucking rock to me the entire time. He tried so hard to support me, always encouraging me and taking me to appointments and helping me with my meal plan. But honestly, all I needed from him was his presence. Because just knowing that I had this wonderful, gorgeous man by my side made me want to fight even harder.

I wanted to do things with him, go places with him. Eat at cafes, drink a bottle of wine at a picnic, share dessert or junk food, go to the beach. I wanted to live spontaneously, not worrying constantly about the calorie content of my next meal or when I would get my next work out in. Because those were the only things I ever thought about - and I was so tired of it.

And I'm proud to say that we do those things now. We do. It makes me nervous as hell sometimes, but I'm able to do them. Fuck, just last night we ordered pizza and cheese fries for dinner and I ate it. I felt guilty at first, as I always do. But I pushed those feelings down and focused on Harry, who was getting cheese all over himself. I wiped his mouth with a napkin, and then dug into my own slice, genuinely smiling for once. Genuinely enjoying my food. 

How did I get there though? How did I even reach that point in recovery? I'll be honest. I gave up control. Completely. I decided to stop restricting myself. To just let myself eat whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted.

At first, I didn't want to do it. I was too scared. But my therapist said it was the only way to overcome my restrictive dieting patterns, and Harry assured me that it would be okay.

"It doesn't mean you have to binge, Louis," he explained. "They said to just eat what you're craving. So if you want a cookie, you just have one, yeah?"

I stared at him. That idea seemed so completely foreign to me. Since when did you eat what you wanted? For so long, I had eaten what seemed healthiest or low calorie. I couldn't just pick up a cookie- even if I wanted it.

But one day, I did. It wasn't a cookie, though. It was a poptart. Six months ago, I had a poptart for the first time in nearly a fucking year. And I almost cried, to be honest. Because it tasted so good, because I actually felt free for once. 

Once I got started reintroducing foods that I used to love into my diet, I started to enjoy myself much more. Over time, I started to forget about my fear of food. It was still there, lingering in the background. But I was able to turn it off, and to listen to my cravings, to eat what I wanted.

Soon, I started having all the wonderful foods that I restricted myself from for so long. All kinds of desserts, pizza, burgers. Anything I wanted. I felt so much fucking better - and with time, I started to think about food way less. Everything used to be "off limits," which just made me think about food all the time. Now, I knew I could have things whenever I wanted, so I didn't stress about it. 

That went well for a couple of weeks. I thought I was cured, honestly. 

But then I noticed that I had gained weight.

Fucking fuck.

I knew I had two options then. I could restart the cycle of restricting and gaining, going back down the path of self destruction in attempt to feel less gross. Or instead, I could sit back and do nothing. Instead, I could end that cycle. 

Standing on the bathroom scale in my apartment, I finally decided on the latter choice. I so badly wanted to diet, to starve myself again. But I could physically no longer take the torture anymore. I knew it hand to end. So as uncomfortable as I felt, I kept on doing what I was doing. I just kept on eating normally, what I wanted, when I wanted. 

I stayed positive - or at least I tried to. In the end, I gained fifteen more pounds. It was over the course of a few months, and I wasn't doing so much exercise, so it came on in the form of a little extra fat.

Harry kept telling me I looked perfect, but I just wanted to die.

Because I had fucking curves now. I had hips and chest muscle and a bit of a tummy. It was just — it was too much. I wasn't used to it. It felt awful.

And I wanted to relapse again. I didn't even care about the torture, about the cycle I was so desperately trying to break. I just didn't want to feel so awful in my own skin anymore. I wanted out.

But then Harry said something that changed everything.

"Lou," he said, stroking my arm one night as we lay in his bed. I told him not to touch my midsection or my legs because I was too self conscious at this size. "What do you always tell me when I cut?"

"Hmm," I replied. "I tell you not to hurt yourself. Because you're so special to me and you're so worth it."

Harry nodded, his green eyes locking with my blue ones. "Well I don't want you to hurt yourself either."

"But I'm not," I said, raising an eyebrow.

"You are, every time you call yourself gross or fat," Harry said. "That's hurting yourself. Please don't."

I blushed, my hands gravitating towards my stomach. "I can't help the way I feel," I whined. "I've gained so much."

"I know you can't help the way you feel. But you can fight it," Harry said. "You can tell those negative thoughts to go fuck off."

"Haz," I huffed. "I can try. But until I lose this flat tire around my stomach I don't think I'll have much success. I like to be lean, always have."

"But you know this is your body at it's healthiest weight. Plus, lean isn't the only body type that's sexy," Harry said, moving closer towards me. "I love your curves. I think they're sexy... that's what drew me to you in the first place."

"R-really?" I asked. He was rubbing my leg now and I started to feel hot and heavy.

"Really," Harry said. "Can I, um.... we haven't been intimate in forever... not sure if you...."

I grimaced. That was my fault. I was the one too scared to get undressed in front of him. "Yeah, we Can. No boundaries this time. Touch me anywhere."

"Mmm," Harry replied, licking his lips. He helped me remove my shirt and shorts, stripping me down to my most vulnerable state. "Uhhh, I loveeee your body, Lou."

He kissed my lips, but quickly moved his way down to my collarbone and then to my chest. He left a trail of kisses on my tummy and the inside of my thighs. It felt so good I forgot how self conscious I was. And when we finished having sex, I stayed awake, thinking about each of those delicate kisses.

Harry loved my body. Loved it.... and as I lay there in his arms, I wondered if maybe one day I could learn to love it too.

So as I stand here in my tight clothes in front of the whole church, do I feel self conscious? Hell yes. But every time one of those thoughts creeps up, I always try to challenge it. 

I don't love the way I look - I'm not sure I'll ever love the way I look. But I do accept it. And that's been a battle in itself. 

This morning, for example, as I got dressed, the voice in my head was screaming: "No, you can't wear that! You're too fat and gross."

I looked in the mirror, buttoning my buttons and shook my head. "I look fine," I thought to myself. 

"Your stomach is huge," the voice retaliates.

My hands begin to move to my waist, but I stop myself. "It's fine. No six pack, but that's okay," I reply internally. 

It's always a back and forth like this, and I'd be lying if I said it wasn't exhausting. Some days the voice wins, other days I do. But I'm getting better at winning these days.

As the priest says a prayer about James' christening, I play with the buttons on my sleeves, tracing a finger along the National Eating Disorders Awareness tattoo on my left wrist. I got it a few weeks ago as a reminder to myself. To show myself that even if I start to struggle again, I can always get through it. 

Harry got a tattoo as well: the word "Strong" in black cursive on his forearm. I'm honestly really proud of Harry and how far he's come. He's such a great boyfriend and support system that I sometimes forget he's struggling with demons of his own. 

"I got a new diagnosis today," Harry said one day after he came home from work last month. At this point, I had recently rejoined Niall and Liam's company, so we were working in the same office again - and we were living together again too. However, instead of doing campaigns, we were writing psychology articles and PSAs about mental health issues, including eating disorders. 

It was fun to do the research together, especially since were exploring issues that hit close to home. We wanted to use our personal experience to help readers feel less alone and to help stand up against the stigma surrounding mental health.

"What was it?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. Harry looked a bit nervous, so I rubbed his back gently, a surefire way to calm him down.

"Borderline personality," he said in a hushed tone. "It explains why I have those mood swings and emotional outbursts sometimes, the self harm, the depression. And my fear of abandonment..."

"Haz," I said, continuing to stroke his back. "How do you feel?" 

He shrugged. "I feel weird I guess. I don't really enjoy knowing more things are wrong with me than I originally thought. But it explains a lot... makes me feel like it's not my fault so much."

"Well, you know it was never your fault," I replied.

Harry nodded. "I know. I just need to... I just want to stop being like this. I'm not a good boyfriend."

I shook my head fervently. "No way, Harry. You're the best boyfriend. You listen to everything, even the craziest thoughts I tell you, and you always make me feel loved and supported. So what if you have mood swings and get worked up sometimes? I love you just the same."

"Aww, Lou," he cuddled me in his arms and I rested my head on his chest. His tattoo felt smooth beneath my fingers, and I smile, remembering he's been clean for nearly two months. 

"You seem so much happier than when I first met you," I said, straightening up and kissing his cheek. 

"So do you," he replied. 

Now, as the christening ceremony concludes, I follow the other attendees out the door and wait by Harry's car so he can drive us to the restaurant where the after party is being held. 

"Sorry it took me a while," Harry says, heading over. He seems more jittery than usual, which is unusual because the ceremony is over. And that was the hard part. 

"No worries," I reply, hopping into the passenger seat. "Eliza is driving James?" 

Harry nods in response. "Okay," I says. "Are Niall and Liam meeting us there?" 

"Yup," Harry says. He adjusted his tie for the third time today.

"You okay?" I ask, raising an eyebrow. 

"Just a bit worried for all the small talk with old relatives," Harry says. "Not my thing."

It's not long before we arrive at the restaurant, a nice Italian joint downtown. 

As soon as we get inside, Harry is swarmed by a relative, and I head over to one of his cousin's who I've met briefly, making small talk with him until Niall and Liam arrive and save me from this mess. 

The restaurant is nicely decorated and boasts of fine white linen table cloths, silver streamers, and sparkly string lights. I gush about the decorations for a bit, and then excuse myself to use the bathroom because I'm completely small-talked out.

When I return back to the main room a few minutes later, I notice Liam and Niall coming in, and start to walk over to them. 

But just as I'm about to reach them, they start singing. What the fuck??

"What would I do without your smart mouth

Drawing me in, and you kicking me out

Got my head spinning, no kidding, 

I can't pin you down

What's going on in that beautiful mind"

"All of Me" by John Legend. That's one of my all time favorite love songs. But what does that have to do with James' christening? I guess I understand religion even less than I thought.

Wait actually... this whole situation is much weirder than I thought. Niall and Liam are wearing matching tuxedos... that's definitely not normal. What if.....

Oh my god. 

As they enter the chorus, Harry runs in, clad in a black tuxedo with a pink bowtie, and stands between them, belting out the words. 

" 'Cause all of me

Loves all of you

Love your curves and all your edges

All your perfect imperfections

Give your all to me

I'll give my all to you

You're my end and my beginning

Even when I lose I'm winning

'Cause I give you all, all of me

And you give me all, all of you"

Before I was only standing a couple feet away from Liam, but I moved back, slightly scared by the commotion. Now, Harry was rushing towards me, grabbing my hand and Liam and Niall continued to croon the song. 

"Come here, come on, yeah?" Harry said, leading me to the center of the restaurant. 

All of the guests have basically formed a circle around us now - and I think know what's going to happen. I just can't believe...

AND FUCK, he's down on one knee. Oh my god. 

"Louis Tomlinson," Harry says, his eyes shimmering green. "Will you marry me?"

I stare at him, dumbfounded, covering my mouth as the tears flow. 

"Yes!" I nearly shout. 

Everyone around us cheers and Harry puts the ring on my finger - it's a fucking rock. Crying, I pull him in for a hug. Harry hugs back, and I've never felt warmer and safer than I do now in his arms, knowing that we'll have our forever together. 

When we separate it, I rush over to Niall and Liam, nearly tackling them into a bear hug. "Oh my gosh you guys. That was amazing!" I say. 

"All Harry's idea," Niall chuckles. "Congratulations, Louis. We're so excited for you."

"Yes! Congrats," Liam says, patting me on the back. "I call best man!!" 

I roll my eyes, laughing as Niall pouts. "Shut up. You'll both be best men."

Harry, who's been standing quietly next to me, smiles at Liam and Niall. "Thank you guys so much for making it special. That was amazing. You're quite the singers." 

"As are you, Harry! Even better than rehearsal," Liam replies. 

"You're all bloody great," I say, beaming. "I fucking love you, Harry."

I pull him in for a kiss and Harry melts into my embrace. Poor thing, no wonder he's been a ball of nerves all day. 

"Oh god, we definitely ruined James' day, though," I say, blushing. 

Harry shakes his head. "No, it's okay, I just... I don't know I wanted to do a big venue type thing. I was gonna wait for another party or something, but I was too impatient. I just love you so much."

I nod, cocking my head to the side as I think. "Well I think I know how we can make it go back to being about him."

Rushing over to the open bar, I grab an empty glass and a fork and began to clink them together. 

Everyone turns their attention to me, and I swallow thickly, my shirt suddenly feeling a bit too tight. I tug at it, holding back tears, but then shake my head. 

You can do this Louis.

"Hi everyone," I say, jumping up on a barstool so they can see me. Like I said, I'm not the tallest. "So as you know, I'm James' godfather. And I just want to give him a special congratulations for this big day. We're all so happy and excited about his christening!" 

The audience seems to respond positively to that so I keep going.

"Also, as you guys may have just seen, Harry and I are engaged. As of like thirty seconds ago...."

They start to cheer - even Eliza, though she looks less than thrilled. Too bad, sweetheart. 

"And so, once Harry and I are married, I am going to legally adopt James. He's such a big part of my life already and I can't wait to make things official. Now he has three parents who love him... I mean, as long as that's cool with you, Harry."

Harry rushes up to the front, standing next to me. He doesn't need a barstool. 

"That's more than fine by me, Louis. I'm so excited. So let's give it up for my beautiful son James and my gorgeous fiance, Louis. Thank you all for coming!" 

Applause erupts from the audience and Harry and I embrace once again. I hold onto him tight, stroking his hair, telling him how much I love him. 

"Louis, you're so beautiful, you know that right?" Harry whispers. "Inside and out."

I lock eyes with him, my heart pounding as I try to find the words. 

"I know," I finally say. "I know that now."

-The end. 

a/n: this was the longest epilogue ever. let me know what you think :) if you have questions, I can do a Q and A section at the end! 

Thank you for reading

Love

Sam


End file.
